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"Let's go to the forest to pick some timber" my father said. I helped him to cut down the trees dutifully. Later, in the farmyard we would saw them monotonously into half-meter long logs and then cut them in smaller pieces to be used for firing the stove. I watched it and my heart ached for those beautiful birches to be used for fire. I put a little wooden man, cut out of a board, near our house. I cut out a little window in the centre and placed a Christmas decoration of glittering glass in it. The little man stood there for two years and disappeared. I asked my mother what happened and she told me unwillingly that her brother had wanted a board. I had to reconcile myself to the loss of the wooden man. Still, it remained in my drawings, in situations and in space.