Long swirled lines appeared and then circles choked out the remaining space. A few seconds later figures pranced around the wall. I held my breath as I drew back. My body felt the same free and powerful sensation as when I looked outside. True, my art could not spread warmth like the sun, smell like dew lingering on the grass, or hug my body like the wind.
Nothing can compare to mother nature.
However, I did realize that these small objects empowered me to express my thoughts, inspire my imagination, and fuel my creativity. I became a bird soaring in the sun, able to smell the grass, and feel the wind. Thirteen years later, I glance at those same crayons, now broken. Every bit of inspiration had been extracted from the crayons. The tips were used to make decisive points, the flat bottoms were assigned to make special shapes, and the rounded sides added a smeary flavor to my pictures.