Childhood Memories

Growing up I was a very inquisitive child. My Mama said my first word was “Why”. I had from an early age developed the ability to question everything and anything.My thirst for knowledge was unquenchable and my curiosity boundless. In order to satisfy my growing desire to learn more, my mother preoccupied me with endless supplies of books.Each book was a portal to a whole new dimension, taking my imagination to unbelievable heights.

It wasn't long before my passion for reading soon translated into writing.I remember spending hours and hours as a child writing about far away galaxies; creating new worlds with the stroke of my pen. Designing and editing for countless hours.Until soon enough my journals were brimming with a thousand different tales. The writing was a way for me, to take fragments of my imagination and weave them into intricate stories.This was further explored during my adolescent years. Just like the finest cheese, my skills evolved, becoming more distinct in taste.

My writing soon became driven by a burning passion; a desire to let my mind drift into countless realms. It starts with a spark, a simple idea, which soon ignites the labyrinth pathways of my mind. Soon this flames travel to every fibre of my being , compelling me to pick up a pen.
As I begin a sentence with a word- a tiny green shoot sprouts, hopeful and spirited. After waiting patiently, this miniscule fragment blossoms into a perfect blush, dazzling and proud, yet never boastful. Soon, a flower garden blooms, radiant and true in every colour of the rainbow. It dances jovially beneath its invisible ink god, living in blissfully naivety.

Writing became a delicate act, a way for me to take my words and add soul to them. A type of art form; a way of honouring the english language by means of such poetry. Each word intertwining with the next and the flow of the letter from which life arises. Every word sparking the endless cycle of creation. A process filled with a magnitude of vibrant beauty.