Ever since I was a child, a seat near the window has always been my favorite place. Lost in reveries, I sit motionless and watch through the glass. My thoughts wander along with the changing frame of reference. They come to halt only when the vehicle stops. And then I look around as if suddenly awakened from a sleep.
My mind has been a captive of wanton thoughts long before I was able to formulate them into words. They bang against the walls of my head like butterflies fluttering in a cage. I hear them as they echo till they take form of and come out as what we call - ideas.
People say I was born creative and may be that's the reason I have sought ways to express myself. Seeking ways implies that curbs were imposed from time to time on the expression when it seemed to be deviating from the norms – fictitious norms to be precise; and respective measures were taken in order to make it conform. Since limitations seldom diminish the creative power of an individual, ideas keep originating and keep seeking ways to emerge.
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