Updated: Jun 8
Dearest Little Prince,
Once again, my homeland's yearning for the clear night sky has triumphed over the unrelenting winter rain. It has rid itself of the cheerless gray cloud, and once again, the stars have shown themselves. Once again, the fog has lifted off the ground, yet once again, in my mind, it persists. Today, I write to you at the cost of attending to several of what the grown-ups call "serious matters," seeing as the fog does not allow me to them. I am, in fact, neck-deep in such affairs, and it does not help that these are all they ever speak to me of. And so today, I write to you because on days like these, your words are all that I can hold on to. It bothered you too, their dull, parochial notions about the world. How a place of such wonder and magic could be reduced to accommodate arsenals and arsenals of their undying appetites for rationality and logic, among other weapons of suppression. Yours was a different approach. Your quest for answers was not just limited to finding them, but to asking the right questions - so, so many of them, that your inquisitiveness became a metaphor for the curious. In fact, your entire being has come to represent an entity that is believed to reside in all of us, though often subject to one's years. They call it the 'inner-child.' It is also believed that the inner-child fades away with age, and if not, one must force it to. Most conform and, once exposed to a life without it, spend the rest of their years struggling to bring it back. It is nowhere that I intend to go with this train of thought and I apologize for my cynicism. However, all this is to remind myself to be grateful to have found you someplace so secret, no grown-up would ever know, and someplace so far away, I'd never lose you. Like your pilot friend, yours was the company of my dearest teacher and one that made my childhood worthwhile because you taught me to never grow out of it, to never let go of the love, hope, and imagination, and to take care of the planet, first thing in the morning. And so, I promise you that no matter how monstrous the 'serious matters' get, I will always find time to look up, watch the stars, pray that for no one may the sheep eat the rose tonight, and hear you giggle like the ringing of five hundred million bells.
My name is Ayesha; born and raised in Pakistan, I am currently preparing to sit for my O'level examinations. I have an aptitude for social sciences and have only recently uncovered my fondness for writing. I also greatly enjoy reading, as well as watching sport, movies, and sports movies.