Having recently come in to the possession of a brand new son, I am starting to feel like I have a new lease on life. For years, hidden away in my inner sanctum, surrounded by piles of completed sudoku books and covered in scone crumbs; I thought I had nothing. Little did I know that a son was growing, learning and building a future. Not just for himself, but for me too.
At the tender age of 37, Estevez is still a little rambunctious and eager. Upon discovering his existence in the world of Architecture; I knew that he would need a steady hand to guide him through, what would be, a successful but perilous career. The world of interior art and design is a strange and dangerous one. Odd lascivious characters abound, beckoning the uninitiated into dark games of fantasy and desire. I remember my time spent at the London School of Design as if it were only yesterday. The end of the fifties were a time of rebirth and the Art Schools were starting to fill up with ambitious young men and women, eager to change the world.
That is how I met Estevez’ mother, apparently. He showed me a picture of her when I met him for coffee, last week. A pretty thing, a shame I couldn’t recall her. It matters little. What matters is that now, in the twilight of my years, I have a son to impress my experience and convictions of life upon. Every son needs his Father, especially during his thirties, a difficult time for many. Having been doing solid work for the past ten years, and receiving acclaim for a great deal of it, I would like to push him to the creative levels that I reached in my prime.
The sky is the limit for the two of us, together there is nothing that can stop us. Having lived life on the road for the past few years, it will be good to settle back down to a domestic style of life. Estevez has a wife and two children of his own to support, but I have already told him my thoughts on the place of family in a young Architect’s career; namely that one does not exist. The only way I could hit the stratospheric heights that I did, was without the familial distractions of the everyman. Something Estevez is all too aware of. My mobile home is now parked in his drive. As I write this, I see his queer wife peeking through the curtains with disdain. I recognise the look of fear in her eyes, she has leeched off my son’s greatness for long enough, it is time to set him free.