Different sizes and different formats, but all having suffered the same translation process: from an own childhood memory to a canvas. Memories are just that, memories. Once they were real experiences, but they got transformed during years by a complex and unique system of neurons. What is left is just images, noises, smells, feelings… that sometimes have little to do with reality. I guess that thinking about past experiences is just meaning that I am getting old. It is good to get old, it is much worse not to turn years!