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I grew up between a fairy tale and an abyss in a magical land called Little Red Hill. The clouds would hurry by loudly spilling all the water they had collected because they were always on the run looking for a new place to be. I used to fly around town with my pet phoenix under the rainbow after the thunderstorms crash-landing on puddles. I would get in trouble for it all the time unless my grandpa was there to save the day.
I developed an almost unhealthy obsession with the moon so naturally I loved spending hours staring at it and its army of stars. The night was always too bright to be scared of monsters. Those came later as necessary characters to propel a escape from a newfound darkness.
Family dinners were every day events. The simple thought of the luscious dishes sends me on a trip down memory lane from which I don't want to return. Oh, the vibrant and velvety fruits that I could eat to my heart's content! Little did I know, I would lose that pleasure once I was no longer there. Yet, I dreamed of the day I could see the sun set across the world. I wondered if the sunrise was equally bright beyond the reach of my eyes.
Despite wanting the world served on a platter, I was happy. I didn't know it then, but I was. My childhood is one of my most precious memories because childhoods like that simply don't seem to exist anymore. I was one of the last lucky few who enjoyed magic before it slipped through into an unknown realm never to be found again.
One day as I ran free in the whimsical fields of my imagination trying to touch the sky with my hands, without a warning, I was thrown into the abyss. So I ended up here against all odds, on a quest to climb out of it guided by my beloved moonlight. I am only afraid that I have started to find it rather cozy as it is slowly forever changing me into a not self-proclaimed tortured artist.
xo, R