Imagination I write because I must. When words are written, they cannot be unwritten. When words are said, they cannot be unsaid. Yet when words are spoken and there is no-one to hear them, they are easily forgotten. When words are written, they remain. Forever imprinted, in some form or another. Important or not, they remain. And i have something important to say. What would you think when you saw a cardboard box lying in the street? Would it spark interest and curiosity, or do you form a dull assumption? Perhaps here is a story behind that box and its contents. Emotion, tears and laughter. Does it even matter what it holds? My captor utters these words, but who is he? Is he a she? Is she a being? Or just my imagination? It is my captor who keeps me trapped here, on earth, in reality. But it is also they who take us far beyond the ground our feet touch. Imagination takes us far beyond the realm of nature; introduces us to the supernatural; takes us to places where anything can happen. It takes us to places where there is nothing is impossible. But then, who says nothing isn’t? This imagination seeps in from our dreams to inspire us in our own world. This is nothing to be taken for granted. Imagination must be nurtured, nourished. It must, above all, not be ignored. It will flourish when supported, when suppressed it will strive, leaking out of the bars that seek to contain it. Ignored it will perish into negligence. Imagination isn’t exploring something in depth, it’s creating depth. Going beyond curiosity and creating a story for something that hasn’t one. Do I have a story? Do I want one? Do I need one? Yes.