Natures of my Childwood

Introduction -

This writing is my writing, and it also belongs to the inner child I never lost but out of fear of loosing a very precious place and site from my life, I've decided to construct this expression of memory. Childwood is not an orthographic mistake. What I want to invoke here is the 500m2 of wild Mediterranean forest that lie on top of sedimentary rocks. Its beauty of chaotic death and life is made of eucalyptus trees and their skin, narcissus flowers and old fat olive trees. This place has been forever there, and changing all the time whenever a few mushrooms grow up tall but disappear before spring and strong winds take down barks. Birds sound lovely but you can't see them, the whole area is rich in colors. On its stones, trees and flowers. Not so far away there is a vast sandy beach where the Atlantic Ocean brings a nice imaginary from the sea world for us to collect. But that is another chapter.

In this introduction of my story I'll also present myself: my name is Marina. Most of my time I spend it here in the Algarve, in the south of Portugal. I love drawing and painting, I've been recently learning engraving technics and I'm devote to learn woodcut. Stones are my favorite subject while collecting pieces of the world, after that there is ocean's work on nature, bones and leaves. The forest is a part of treatment and forgiveness within myself. If this text will sound good, I will dedicate it to all the melancholic hearts, who can't forget the first time they lost contact with their inner child. This is also part of the fantasy here, once we could imagine that fauna had its own magical life.