How is it living a life when everything you see is actually not what you see... when moon is just a yellow apple - sun is but a burning disco ball - life is but a sleep and forgetting - if those twinkling eyes of your beloved are mere a pair of marbles - if you could make roads in lakes and lakes in roads - if you could shatter the moon and divide the pieces among the needy - if you could make a witch out of a tree and if you can fly without the wings on magic carpets if you could make a parrot sing heavenly songs and if you could scare the scarecrow and make it run away from the fields! If you could amuse a goat and if you could make it laugh...
But still they ask...Why do I scribble about the enigma of fog, about the frown of rose ringed-parakeet.. about crimson pain... What mad person...?