When I was little, I was a quiet child as a stone. I didn’t have enough words and vocabulary to tell what was going on in my head. My childhood was structured with hallucinations and nightmares. I felt as if I was in a deep bottom of the water and looking at the reflected real world from behind of thick water wall.
Now that I am a bit older having my languages, I try to verbalise the things that happened in my secret garden by writing poetry.
It’s almost like depicting the reverse side of reality. We are thinking that we live in a decent society, but it may be only a fraction of this entire world. Both truth and fantasy might be just subjective phenomenons on the two sides of a coin.