Max couldn’t sit still in class. He was constantly distracted by life outside the window. He missed a lot, distracted others, joked a lot, talked too much, and caused disruptions. The teachers called his parents. “You should have him evaluated by a specialist,” they advised strongly. The specialist prescribed medication. Max began to sleep poorly and forgot to eat. His mind raced with thoughts: “I need to eat, I’ll read, Sonia now has a cat…” There were many thoughts, but they didn’t propel him into action. From the outside, it looked like he was “frozen.” At some point, it seemed like he was trying to catch up on everything, like in fast forward. He started many things but finished none. It was advised that he keep a journal. The house became like a quest game, with hints on every corner, none leading to the main prize. Gradually, timers, sandglasses, headphones, endless schedules, and clothes for each day joined the mix…
Years passed - years of school life and endless beginnings that never led to completion. What would he become? His parents were at their wit’s end.
At 35, Max lives alone in an apartment with a mezzanine. Below him lives a lonely grandmother who cooks out of habit so abundantly that having dinner with Max has almost become a tradition. They often laugh together. Max is an illustrator. When he works on a project, he has no weekends; days blend together, and he forgets everything else. But then he sometimes has a free week, and he wanders new routes, capturing images that turn into very precise, recognizable paintings of life, with details skillfully “caught.” He has few friends, but with those he does have, they can stay up until morning. Max still doesn’t fit into deadlines and rules. He’s used to losing gloves and scarves, sometimes leaving the house in mismatched socks. In the summer, he draws everywhere, often missing his stop and happily walking back. Is he happy? Definitely. His dreams come true, starting with dinner in good company and sketches at a café where he returned for his scarf… For Max, time is about moments spent meeting people and important details preserved in different corners of his memory and skillfully transferred to paper.
Years passed - years of school life and endless beginnings that never led to completion. What would he become? His parents were at their wit’s end.
At 35, Max lives alone in an apartment with a mezzanine. Below him lives a lonely grandmother who cooks out of habit so abundantly that having dinner with Max has almost become a tradition. They often laugh together. Max is an illustrator. When he works on a project, he has no weekends; days blend together, and he forgets everything else. But then he sometimes has a free week, and he wanders new routes, capturing images that turn into very precise, recognizable paintings of life, with details skillfully “caught.” He has few friends, but with those he does have, they can stay up until morning. Max still doesn’t fit into deadlines and rules. He’s used to losing gloves and scarves, sometimes leaving the house in mismatched socks. In the summer, he draws everywhere, often missing his stop and happily walking back. Is he happy? Definitely. His dreams come true, starting with dinner in good company and sketches at a café where he returned for his scarf… For Max, time is about moments spent meeting people and important details preserved in different corners of his memory and skillfully transferred to paper.