Some of you have asked me, why Ι always paint people walking away, showing only their backs.
As a teenager I had read a descriptive scene in one of Ritsos's narratives (a Greek poet and writer) He described that when a man - a miner - returned home from work, his wife was in the kitchen, by the stove, preparing dinner for him. At that moment he noticed - as he was staring at her back - the burdens of her life. He could feel the weight she carried. The way she lowered her head, to ease her shoulders, the way she laid out her one leg so that she could rest her body. At that very moment, he also noticed how carefully she was putting his food on his plate, how she took a piece of cloth wiping from any drops the lip of the plate. Then, she placed her hands onto the counter pushing her body upwards and dragging her leg back to its standing position, regaining her strength to continue. He didn't have to see anymore. He understood that she cared.

So, from then on I look at people when they walk away. Trying to observe what and if I can understand. Not always, but there were times, where I felt some of the weight they carried.