I am quiet, far far away from the crowd, a loner, delimited by the four walls of the room, holding crayon in hand against a white sheet of paper, sketching for hours and hours and hours, sketching drifting cars, wanting to impression my aspiration upon something real, something belonging to this world so as to last it forever!

For a drifter as an artist, the track is his canvas and the car is his brush with which it wants to paint something, something like never before, something close to him, every time.