Timber-framed houses attract my attention. Structured elements in the chaos of thoughts. I get out off the car. Inscriptions over doors. First words over the entrance. They speak from the past. They were put on there to remember names, events, beliefs in common memory. It is their closeness to the origin, which touches me: in the sequences of scratches, possessing rhythm begin both writing and time. For me painting is as writing.

In search of the origin I have written inscriptions in my pictures, which appealed to me. �Recall� is based on the feeling that everything is already here; it is up to us to appropriate it, to find our access. Inscriptions are instruments, which help to actualise common memory.

On this path I have imagined, I were the author and what and where I would write?