I realize that waves for me are rather similar to life itself, and once I've finished painting I head for my bunk, and drift into a reverie of wave-related imagery. Suddenly I'm nine years old again and lying on an air-mattress on a lake, smooth ripples are rocking me to sleep - all is calm - nothing is complicated. Then, a vision of me a year or two later, in a yawl with waves and wind that make the boat pick up speed rapidly and I'm thinking "steady, steady, don't let go of the sheet..." then it's an October day in 1996 and I'm on a 7,000 tonne paper carrier bound for Canada - the wind is blowing hard, maybe 45 meters a second,and all the waves that I've been dreaming of seeing, feeling and embracing are all right there in front of me. 12 to 14 meters high, banging and slamming!

Now I'm out here in the middle of Atlantic with two more weeks of storms and big, big waves and oh, how I'm loving it! Water all around me and no land - only the roar of the ocean and I realize that I'm really on a surfing board, without the knowledge of how to use it to keep me afloat. The dream starts to become complicated now, when until just recently everything seemed so clear to me... then there I am again, still on the board but now surrounded by a perfect tunnel of waves, and suddenly it all goes still and quiet - all the water's turned to ice! My body tries to moves but it is frozen. Is this the end?

A tiny ray of sunshine hits my cheek, a warm feeling of great appreciation runs through my body like my blood is heating me up. The ice is soon gone, and gradually I'm back on my mattress and some small, small waves are rocking me and the Esperanza, gently, gently, gently awake. I love waves.

Next life I'm gonna be a wave...

- Måns