All the paper flow flooding my life through the hollow womb of my mailbox drives me insane, makes me neurotic. However, it undergoes the process of most careful treatment. Scissors in hand, in sadistic frenzy I hack up all these flashy ads, salivate cutting into small pieces old bills that used to impudently demand paying for rent, phone, gas, and electricity. Having shred pounds of paper I start doing magic per se. Out of all this bright, screaming mix in a big plastic box I choose bits and pieces I need, lay them out on the surface of a white sheet. Using my imagination and glue, adding some paint into the process, I fulfill my vision of the paper world, building the forms that my inflamed psyche takes so painlessly. As I plunge into the work I become increasingly confident that the paper world needs my thoughtful interference to be transformed.