I’m opposed to society, it doesn’t please me, nor do I try to please it. I feel like a 21st century Don Quijote, whose windmills are the irresponsibles, the liars, the people in whom kindness becomes small, petty, as they themselves are. I’m not adapted to the normality of those around me. I have my own normality, but who can say, with scientific precision, what is normal.
painting