Childhood.

Never whole, never pure light.

The courtyard — dust, chalk, a ball thudding against the wall.

Evenings that would not end.

The smell of metal swings warmed by the sun.

And then — something else.

A silence between adult words.

A glance that stayed too long.

A door half-closed.

We had no names for these things.

Only the sharp edge of feeling.

The body remembered before language could.

Later, it is these shadows — quieter than joy, harder than play — that carve their shapes inside us.

Perhaps to grow up is to walk back through those corridors of pause and echo, to look at them again.

To find, among the fears, the first faint outline of strength.#Art 🎨📸 #Self #🗣️TEDSpeaker #✍️Blogs

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