Creativity is like a candle. A tube of wax with a wick, until you ignite the latent flame.
My flame was lit by Mrs Nel, my grade eight school teacher, awarding me full marks when I broke the mould in response to an essay entitled 'What did you do over the school break?'. It contained two-hundred-and-fifty words crafted together from a five-minute timeframe describing the fantasy of my daydreamed wish of what the break could have looked like.
She opened the gate. I ran and have not stopped since then.
Thank you, Mrs Nel—my best friend.