The world of my imagination is made up of all that I am; my fears, loves, hopes and wonders. It is alien, and yet familiar. It is everything I can imagine, and yet is in and of itself. It haunts me, and it intrigues me. It is my escape, and my release. It is my wonder, letting me discover all that lay inside. It teaches me, while I rear it. It is everything to me, when in all reality it is nothing. And that is what makes imagination the most beautiful thing we as humans possess. There is a world behind all our eyes, and I feel compelled to share mine.

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