Realists don’t 

Really have a 

Real place in what I deem to be 


Let’s examine a child’s mind for a moment. Heck, let’s look at your youth. What did you see when you laid out in the freshly cut lawn, face up, staring into the open blue skies that was every lazy Sunday afternoon in your childhood? Did you daydream like me? 

Just because I’m snacking on carrots doesn’t mean I am a bunny. That may be as great of an assumption as if you thought anyone that chases sticks is a puppy. 

It’s not whether you are for the carrot or the stick that defines you. No, no- I believe that if you let what you do define you, you’ve already lost. 

The wonderment in a child’s eyes is simply unmatched in this world. The playground is how I create. The playground is how I thrive. The playground is how I groove. I encourage all of my nearest and dearest and anyone else I respect into that environment of intellectual prosperity. We live in a social construct that doesn’t subscribe to the creativity that the playground, the child’s imagination and the spirit of the phrase “what if” epitomizes. 

I’m here to dispel that fallacy. I’m here to bring about groovement, raditude and a place we call home; Imagine-Nation. 

Look up into the sky this afternoon. That’s your reality. 


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