I always thought that the most beautiful sound in the world, is the sound of blackbirds singing in the forest, but yesterday, passing a park, I suddenly realized that the most beautiful sound in the world is the sound, or rather the noise - of children playing. Morgane is only 8 years old, brown eyes, and as a distinctive sign - adults keep forgetting she exists. My mind wanders to the story that could be embedded in her future, and the story takes shape for me, instantly, like a movie projected on the white sheet of the mind...
She stepped off the train onto the platform, her heart racing and her mind whirling with questions she was not yet brave enough to ask. She had been an orphan for as long as she could remember, never quite finding anywhere to belong. Her parents had died , and since then, she had been searching for something, anything to fill the aching void in her heart. It was not just the absence of her parents that gnawed at her, but something deeper, more primal than that, it was the absence of a future that she could count on, yes, children also think, sometimes more deeply than adults - the absence of a hand to hold as she navigated the twists and turns of existence.
The days of orphanage were a blur of faces, of emotions too raw to name, of questions she was still too scared to ask. She watched the other children around her, saw how they clung to each other, forming their own makeshift families out of the rubble of their lives, but try as she might, she could not make herself feel at home, could not shake the feeling that something crucial was missing. It was in the quiet moments, the ones that crept up on her like thieves in the night, that the questions became too loud to ignore....Was there anything beyond this moment, this place ? Would she ever find anyone to love her, anyone to tell her that everything was going to be ok ?
The years passed, and she grew older, wiser, more resilient. She created her own family, forged her own path, and discovered that life was not defined by the hand you were dealt, but by the way you chose to play it, she saw the infinite possibility of existence, and she realized that even when she was alone, she was never truly without hope.
Through the eyes of this character, I see the profound loss that comes with being an orphan, the daunting questions that come with facing the unknown, and the unshakeable spirit that can rise from the ashes of a painful past, I see life is not always easy or fair, but hope is a powerful force that can overcome even the most profound loss. The stories can differ, the happy ending can be missing many times, but hope is always the common ingredient .
The sound of children playing will always project another story to me.