I know why I am artistic. When I was about 6 or 7, maybe 5, I don't quite remember for sure. It was a birthday celebration at our house in Baku, there were many relatives and the conversation at the table was recorded by my father's newly bought cassete corder (magnitofon called Vesna 202). I was sitting right next to uncle Yanka, and being hyper I am I was moving around in my seat getting up to pour myself jam, it was an unconfortable seat. And I must've dropped a drop of that straberry jam(vareniye) onto uncle Yanka's pants. He squeezed my balls so hard that I started crying and almost lost conscience. I remember I immediately had a desire to pee while still crying and my mom took me to the kitchen and I did it there into a small bowl. I must ask myself, is it a virtue that he did that upon me?