“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world”. Albert Einstein
I’ve seen her make mud pattied clay bricks in the backyard for days. She can spend hours painting and repainting her nails. She spent hours wandering the backyard with a picnic blanket, dragging her siblings from one end to the next…in her mind, she was travelling the world: first, Paris, then Australia.
She took the most effort to harness a logical approach in math. She’d rather be doing, well, anything. She’s least likely to catch on to the rules of the game, or read the directions of a map. Yet, when she decided she wanted to sew, she began cutting and pinning, no patterns. When she cooked, she left the recipe books unopened.
After she’s finished her prescribed creative writing in morning studies, she wanders into her room to write her stories, or read stories. Her pages are filled with clever, realistic dialogue. Her plot lines are weaving, as adventurous as a Hollywood film.
She’s the one everyone followed in the playground, because she made up the clever stories to act. She play acted since forever…switching from British to German to French accents unprompted and untaught. She lives most happily in her quiet world, her made up world, her dream world. She is to me the dreamer, and epitomizes imagination.