The Journey: A glimpse on the mind of a writer.
The tendency to put pen to paper has been a primordial longing, developed once I gained consciousness of my immediate environment. That lonely impulse of delight in seeing the orange sun rising from the horizon in a hazy early morning. That golden crescent of the moon lighting up the dark night. The whispering of the trees as they interact with each other. These natural phenomena ignited that desire to capture them in a form I thought I was more attuned to; it’s not photography. It’s art. It’s writing.
Growing up in a lonely country side, adorned with greenery surroundings of shrubs and trees and occasional visit of wild animals and the everlasting choruses from the birds, the desire got more intense and that lingered so much with me for the better part of my life and those would change the fundamental aspects of my life I have not fully utilized.
Moving down the hilly, lonely path to the stream on a cold, harmattan morning to fetch a bucket of water and observing nature in its interactions with its self, I became more self-conscious of the inner yearnings I would have to come to terms with regardless of how far I would hesitate in bringing them to reality.
As Hueman would say, nothing is as exciting as constantly seeking balance: between the beautiful and the grotesque, the abstract and the figurative, and the golden moment between sleep and wake.
A smile just flickered across my face.