These pictures are from the eighties, when I was a student in the Netherlands and tried to live from my etchings and paintings. Making pictures of the squatted house and of my friends living there with me, was like making sketches; exercises in ways of looking and in creating a world. Although I printed many of these in a local students darkroom it then never occurred to me to publish them. Now as my sons are grown up (the first one of three was born in the Herenstraat 1), I try to take up all the threads of my work again, by weaving stories that already belong to me, into newer perspectives. My live seems fragmented; somehow these images, as long they stayed in boxes, were unreal, from a past and unspoken. But dreams come true also from re-telling a, maybe slightly different, story.