During winters last year, Yuna went to spend holidays at her countryside home.She has no complaints with city life, but she adores the serenity and calmness of the country.She carried her sketching materials because she loves to draw.And she carried her writing materials because she loves to write.
She sat on a boulder when the sun was orange.She looked at the trees with green and crimson leaves and watched the birds hop from one branch to the other. She contemplated about the story that she was in the process of composing.The story, she wanted to transform later into a comic strip.In her story, there was one Mr. Bamboo and one Ms.Rainbow.She hadn’t got much time in the previous two months to think about her tale.The schedules had been very consuming.Now she had time to think.And write.And draw.
Yuna loves to draw.Once she takes a brush, she will forget the world around.She would make lines and circles and soak the brush in water and mix colors.She would tie her hair into a ponytail because they would dangle in front of her eyes and disturb her view.
She sat there, recollecting how much of the story she had framed already.The wind was soft and laden with silence.The birds chattered in a random symphony.Her expression remained same for a long time.She only blinked.When the sky was red, she smiled.She reached for the pen and started scribbling something on her notepad.
(I wrote this in memory of Yuna.She is a gifted artist and poetess and she loves solitude more than anything.For some reason, I find her mysticism very captivating and I feel like writing about her-anything, just because it gives me a chance to peep into her world, which I imagine to be very beautiful! Like Wordsworth, who saw a solitary reaper singing a song in the field and got mesmerized.He commemorated his experience in his verses.It is amazing to meet such people who, by being themselves, inspires creativity in you.)