I talked to a young man sitting in the back of his van in a carpark the other morning. He was overlooking the ocean, watching the waves roll in to the beach with pen and paper in hand. I asked him if he was drawing. He said no - he was studying. Oh! What are you studying I asked. He said a finance and commerce double degree. I said Oh cool! And he said Not really. But I do draw. Here. He handed me a book, saying that he wrote his dreams in there and then drew pictures to accompany them. He had the most beautiful handwriting I had ever seen. I told him so. He said thank you. I looked through his drawings, flipped through a book that contained the chronicles of his dreams. He asked if i drew. I said not really anymore. But I study theatre and play music. He said he had a guitar and a violin in the front seat. He played both. I said to him I hope you don't mind me asking - but why are you not studying art. He looked at his notes in his hand - powerpoint slides of graphs and figures with his beautiful handwriting scrawled on the side. He said he didn't really know. He said his sisters asked him that a lot.

I couldn't get the picasso quote 'every child is an artist, the problem is how to remain an artist once [they] grow up' out of my brain. It elbowed at my conciousness and asked me to say it out loud. But i swallowed it. Smiled. And said. Well if it pays for you to do what you love than I guess it is worth it.

I never found out this mans name. I never will. But i will remember him.