Sometimes I long for the days of my youth when my imagination could paint pictures in front of my eyes. A paper box was the portal to a new universe. A play mobile set was a true human civilization. The real-life imagination that I then carried with me, now only emerges in my dreams. Sometimes she reappears. She braves her away with strength and grace in front of my eyes only to be whisked away in the breath of a moment. I fight for her return, through art, through music, through connections to my soul. I fight for her in every possible way because if she is lost, then I am lost. I don't want to lose her.