Reminiscence....

On a cold winter night, when all the good books in the library were read and re-read, & TV channels succeeded in proving their impotence & dullness, I decided to do something new for a change: reliving some blasts from the past…
I prepared a nice cup of hot chocolate in my favorite huge mug, and took my place in a corner in the balcony... (cozy settings are important for the process of recollecting memories)
I remember those funny unforgettable moments when I was a little kid who tried in vain to unlock some of the mysteries of the surroundings & drew some hypothetical conclusions and answers that would satisfy my eager enquiries- irrelevant the real answers that adults would provide.
Back then, many silly things preoccupied my mind:
§ Q: Why is that old movies are black & white? A: Life used to be black & white, then people invented colors and started painting everything; themselves, their homes, the streets, everything… I even tried to scrub my hands and see whether my original color was black or white…!
§ Q: How does a pregnant woman deliver her baby? A: God sends her baby from the heaven in a halo of light… she wakes up in the morning & finds her little one beside her in bed… (makansh 7ad 3’olob!)
§ Q: Why do clouds look like that? A: Clouds are actually luscious cotton candies made of “heavenly” sugar, & that only those who can reach for them, can enjoy their taste..
It’s not shameful at all to tell stories of your early primitive thinking; on the contrary, I believe that kids who never questioned their surroundings and started looking for logical answers relative to their age, grow up to be dumb adults!
There’s something magical about childhood and early years of life, your knowledge is limited, yet your mind knows no barriers. Imagination is the fuel of the soul, and purity is the driving engine. With such a perfect combination of qualities, one should always acknowledge the child within and reward its existence by revisiting it every now and then…
“We have to listen to the child we once were, the child who still exists inside us. That child understands magic moments. We can stifle its cries, but we cannot silence its voice. The child we once were is still there. Blessed are the children, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. If we are not reborn – if we cannot learn to look at life with the innocence and the enthusiasm of childhood – it makes no sense to go on living.”
By The River Piedra I Sat Down And Wept - Paolo Coelho