I think one of the scariest things about being an adult is that our attitudes towards imagination change so drastically. As a child I was always encouraged by my parents and teachers to embrace the world(s) of make believe, to dream... to truly know what it meant to imagine.
I'm still a dreamer. My mind tends to be elsewhere most of the time. Probably explains why I'm a terrible driver and why I do things like get in the shower with my socks on. I know some people probably think I'm a little looney... and I probably am... but I love having a wild imagination.
I adore a good book and a day of the cinema. When I was a kid, story time was the best part of the day. It's funny, I also used to love to tell stories to my friends.. and when they were sick of them, my stuffed animals were always a decent audience. After all, I was convinced they all came to life and had partied at the Barbie Mansion when I wasn't around. I suppose it's nice to escape reality sometimes.
Today I am celebrating imagination. Without it, I'd be miserable.
I'll start with my favorite author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, father of magical realism. If you haven't read any of his work, please, please, please do so in the near future. My very favorite is Love in the Time of Cholera. (Remember, never judge a book by its movie...)
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| His books changed my life. |
And of course, what's a post about imagination without Alice in Wonderland?
And now for a random assortment:
