Imagination is like finding a sea sheell thats stuck in the sand.
When the current rolls in, you bend down to grab it and just as you do, its swept away.
Stolen right from your grasping hand.
Maybe its just the concept of getting older. It seems that unless your completey insane, imaginTion dies sooner or later.
It truly is one of the saddest things about growing up.
You fear it, you dread the very thought of it, until it finally happens to you and then its just another lost memory thrown under the bus and forgotten.
