Chances of us turning into kids again are as slim as the chances of George R. R. Martin finishing The Game of Thrones series this year. But we can always hope. You will never get that ten kilogram body back but I find that if you decide not to grow up you can be a kid again. Whip out your seven-year-old self’s photograph and put yourself in his or her shoes, and wait for the magic.
I found myself searching frantically for the colouring book I had purchased last year in anticipation of such a pressing need. Goes to show, we are wiser than we know. I pulled out the colour pencils I refuse to let other humans touch from the bottom of my trunk and began to colour.
Colouring outside the lines are signs of a non-conformist beginner, practised ones like us wonder, “If there are no limits to what I can write, why should there be restriction on colouring.”
The stars in my drawing book turn red, orange, green, blue and purple. And the astronaut in it gets to pick her own suit. She wanted a yellow, pink and red suit. Not me. Honest. 😉
She looks awesome too, doesn’t she?