After a while of painting in the attic, some more pink strokes and disgusting nightmares, I met an acquaintance in a café.
She told me, that she knew the guy from my attic, the guy who I never met.The guy who owns the surfboards and weights.

She told me that he was on a long trip and is about to come back to Amsterdam soon. He was well known in the city. People spoke about him as a mad man and sinister person. She told me that he doesn´t like artists at all.

This shook me.

Did I have to leave my beloved attic?

What if he would kill me?

My good friend Maggie came to visit me and she was afraid of leaving me in the mad man´s house. She has heard of this man as well and did not have a good feeling of me staying there.
I knew that I only had a few days left. Together we made a plan.

We started packing and went for a rental car to the airport. We were quick in making decisions, but when we came back the mad man already entered his house and found my art place in the attic.

We were hiding in the staircase and could hear him scream. He ripped all my paperwork into pieces and emptied my colors. He threw my shoes against the wall and tore apart my underwear. He took my shower gel and toothbrush and threw it out of the window, embarrassing.

Fortunately we brought the canvases and valuables downstairs beforehand.

The only thing I wanted to rescue was my camera with all the memories on it. So we had to outwit the mad man. Maggie went up to distract the brute, I followed silently and slipped into my room behind her back, where he couldn´t see me.

I grabbed the camera, took a broom and hit him hard on his head. He fell to the floor, bathing in all the colors and pieces of paper. It suddenly looked peaceful again in my attic, as before, when I used to work there.

Maggie and I disappeared, happy to be alive and left back the attic in Amsterdam, driving to an unknown destination.

The story continues …

Text and photos by Eva-Maria Biribauer, Vienna / 16.05.2014