Little Artist, big imagination

 

I have loved drawing ever since I was a little child. One of my earliest and most repeated drawings, starting from when I was just three years old, was a simple landscape—a cozy house, a tree on one side, a big flower, mountains in the background, and the sun peeking from one corner of the sky, surrounded by fluffy clouds.

The second picture I often drew was of an airplane. It was a simple sketch with a door, lots of windows, two wings, and a little compartment at the back. Every time my parents or family friends saw it, they would ask me what that back part was. I would sweetly say, “That’s the bathroom!” They would laugh and smile at how innocently serious I was.

I had this funny little habit—wherever we went, whether it was the airport, a shopping mall, or someone’s house—I always wanted to use the bathroom. When I was around six or seven, I shared a little dream with my mom, “I wish there was a suitcase bathroom. We could carry it with us, and whenever we needed it, it would turn into a bathroom. Then, after using it, we could fold it back into a suitcase.”

Looking back, it’s such a silly idea—but so full of childhood imagination and innocence.