Do you ever wonder how does it feel to paint the world with the imaginative colours of a writer? One, which is neither black nor blue— just grey. I often find myself mulling over how indefinite a perspective all of us behold about the same world that you and I are a part of.
“Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder”, they say, yet I have never met anyone but an artist who can fathom to see the beauty of all the seven colours when this blue sphere of land and water is kept under a glass prism; oh, how it reflects!
You never start writing in the hope of becoming a writer one day; you start writing because once you pick up the pen and watch your emotions glide on the surface of that blank paper— you are left awestruck because you create a new world for yourself. A world, which can be painted by you and you, only.
Your lust for words eventually becomes your biggest strength because that is how you express yourself, and soon, you find yourself weaving a comfortable sweater out of your own words which carry the fragrance of how you perceive this world to be. Hereafter, once you become a writer, your viewpoint of this beautiful ball of life never stays stagnant. It persists to change, always.
What a captivating thing to see the world through the lens of a writer, isn’t it?