My brain has always confused me.
I always wondered why it was constantly racing,
How it seemed to always make up situations
That had never crossed my mind before.

Then, another thought popped into my head.
Who knows how many images we see in a day?
If a picture is worth a thousand words,
How many words do we “see” a day?

How many stories fly through our senses
As if they are the taxi cabs in New York City?
How many later shape themselves into dreams,
Become the true meaning of déjà vu?

The beauty is in the mystery.
My mind is a maze no one will ever be able to navigate,
A labyrinth full of secrets,
And I can’t wait to add more illustrations to its collection.