When we were young our minds were susceptible to fantasy and products of wild imagination. We were able to imagine nearly anything and most of the time hold it for a fact and truth as plain as day. I recall that girls in school would believe that just by spending the entire school class break leaning on a tree trunk where a pair used to kiss years ago, they would doubtlessly find their true loves in no time.

Back then, our imagination ran so wild, we could think of a lifetime of story material in a day. We would then talk about it, role play it, discuss about it with great seriousness, commitment and fiery passion regarding imagined characters we portrayed in our games.

Now, that we have all become grown-ups, one would expect that with all education, developed vocabulary and wisdom drawn from life, one could put on paper or speak out all of these wonderful imagined stories, with more clarity, detail, appealing expression and style.

But, instead of using all this knowledge and capacity, now we think less and less, we imagine less and less, we are not as creative as we used to be and what little we do manage to think off and imagine, we almost never articulate.

In fact, we say so little of the things we think, that I wonder why we even trouble ourselves with communication and writing at all, when all that we say and write is about how lovely or bad the climate is, about how much money something costs or who is next in queue to amuse us on television while acting as “our leader” for a few years, etc.

Most of the people say nothing original any more. What happened to the children we used to be? Is growing up really such a fatal part of life?

I refuse to smother the child within me! I refuse to give into la mode of speaking what others presume I ought to. I want to say what I think, because I still think a lot and imagine queer and in my opinion, wonderful, things. I want to hold on to the ability to imagine things that are impossible, awkward and unapproachable; and that defy laws of physics and The Cosmos.

I intend to fuel my imagination even if it burns me up from the inside.

Can you imagine that?