When I was a child I was convinced my toys had their own secret lives and I physically ached to be part of it. Anything would have been better than my reality. I so longed for a world of magic, fairies and Enid Blyton realms to exist. I talked to cats, birds and ants in the hopes of finding common ground. Growing up only made the world smaller, drabber and less interesting. Nothing could match my imagination and that is something I'll never get over.