The part of me that expresses itself through words or art is the one that never grew up. I always had a brush, colours, a pen, chalk in my hand as a child.
I fell in love with literature when I heard Shakespeare being recited — on audio tapes. I used to play them before sleeping, and listen to poetry and literature — and so much more — come alive.
I started expressing experiences, mine or others, through words and published my first book when I was 14. My Dad insisted that I learn how to present my work and get it published. That year was a year of learning. Of illustrations, of approaching people and understanding finer nuances of getting my work out in the open. Out of my small diary, magnified and exposed.
Poetry reminds me that though life can be hard, we have a tremendous capacity to be vulnerable. And in that lies an unmatched strength.