I don’t remember when I first put pencil to paper but it must have been a magical moment. And soon after that followed the wondrous feeling of independence with the first crafting of pictures, stories, and poems. Works and drawings tidily within the lines of my own will, mind, imagination, and determination. Without interference or impediment. It was like learning to fly.
Until some teacher strode down the aisle, peeked over my shoulder and said, “That is not how to draw a sleeve, that is not a story I believe, and ‘leave’ is not an adjecteeve!"
P.S. I was so little and already someone was tampering with my soul.