This is a not a review nor a tutorial… This is a story of how, when and why my ink spilled.
Going back to my childhood days, I was not the type of kid you always saw on the streets exploring the world in bare feet and stains on the shirts, I was the type of kid you saw in her room filled with toys, books, and other educational stuff with herself. ( Yep! I’m that kid). I do not say that I have spent my entire childhood confined in the four corners of my room,because there are still times that I got to play outside with kids since I got enrolled into Elementary, ( so I can sneak out), but most of the time I spent it just in my room.Not that I was not allowed to, (sometimes yes) but sometimes it’s my choice.
Growing up like that makes me appreciate art more. My hobbies would include painting with water colors, drawing using pastel colors and crayons, and writing poetry, story and features. Guess, that explains why in my school years I was a part of the writing community competing for the school.
As life begun to get into my being, on the job trainings, extra curricular activities, graduation and now employment..I almost forgot that art was once part of my being. That it was once my escape from reality. That it was once my confidant, my diary and my bestfriend. I have almost forgotten that once in my existence the ink have spilled through my hands..
Now that I have reconciled and remember who I was before all these.. I will exert an effort to be Me again. I will once again launched the ink running though my system.. Once again I will let that ink be spilled everywhere..anywhere. Let this be the commencement of spilled ink.. Let this be the start of Me looking back to who I was but moving on to where I should be.