I can still remember sitting on the floor of our living room, crayons scattered all around me, as I concentrated deeply on drawing a horse’s head at the age of five. The room felt like it was my own little world — the sunlight streamed through the picture window, casting warm golden light across the furniture and ornaments that filled the space with memories. In my mind’s eye I can see every detail: the way the light danced across the furniture, the soft fabric of the couch, and the way the knick-knacks sat on the coffee table, almost as if they were waiting for me to finish my masterpiece. Drawing was my favourite way to spend time, and in that moment, with a crayon in my hand, I felt like I was bringing the world around me to life in ways only a child could.