That winter I had had fallen sick with fever and a tooth infection in an isolated house on a dirt road 25 minutes drive from a main road in rural Portugal. I was to go to Koln and see a friend days before the new year. When I arrived at the airport I was told I'd missed the flight by 24 hours. In my fever I got the dates mixed up and had to buy a new ticket. These paintings were done while I was in Koln as my friend lay dying of cancer, and in the month after she passed. It was a strange winter. I meant to go to India that year but I never made it. I think there is a longing for it in these paintings.