When I was a kid, as little as 5 years old, I used white chalk to draw pictures on the floor.
Back then, I thought chalk was a magical tool, just like a wand to a magician.
This little piece of white brittle writing tool was introduced to me when I started my kindergarten.
Looking at teacher writing alphabets on blackboard made me wonder with thousands of “what-if.”
What if I draw an image of a small door on the cemented floor? Size preferably like mine.
Kid-size to be exact and to make sure no adult could enter through it.
How about drawing it just underneath the my bed? Secret only to me. No one else.
So, I drew and done a simple graphic drawings.
Based on my imagination, I would open the ‘door’ and discover an underground passage leading to a beautiful chamber filled with many toys.
A long sliding tunnel going down so that I don’t need to walk and get tired soon before reaching the chamber.
Perhaps, that was too much of Alice-in-Wonderland tales on drawing a door.
Two years later, I learned from my primary one class teacher that a ‘door’ on the ground does exist.
The word for that ‘door’ is called a man-hole and underneath it has a labyrinth of sewers. Long winding pipes leading to the wastewater treatment plant.
Then I realised that was actually nothing magical about drawing a ‘door’ on the floor.
I never stopped drawing. I continued to use pencil to doodle on my jotter book.
Photography is an immediate reaction, drawing is a meditation. – Henri Cartier-Bresson, French humanist photographer