cineabhi

29Nov09

When the child was a child, It walked with its arms swinging. It wanted the stream to be a river, the river a torrent and this puddle to be the sea. When the child was a child, It didn’t know it was a child. Everything was full of life and all life was one. When the child was a child It had no opinion about anything, no habits. It often sat crossed leg, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair and didn’t make faces when photographed.