And today my best dreams and my greatest desires are the same, namely, to become a painter.

I’ll never dream of something more beautiful.

I was born in Ludus (Middle Transylvania) on August 13, 1953. My father, a shuffle of movement, had a handwriting so beautiful that the writing machines of the age could have learned much from him. His talent for drawing and especially writing was demonstrated from 1956 to 1964, in Communist prisons, where he copied poetry on the shoes’ wood soles.