A hundred roses, million skies, little offshoots, the passerby’s and beautiful fluttering little work of nerves; art in their own light. These beauties are called brains. The membranes of which I don’t understand but I know this that though they all have a medulla oblangata and a squishy toy called cerebrum (you desperately want to touch), they all work differently. Brains have this unique capability of allowing its servant to focus on one aspect of life and easily ignore the other. In basic terms it means that everybody thinks differently and what to one may seem obvious, to another may be the most complicated plethora of knowledge they have ever stumbled upon. It took me more than a decade to realize that not all see that 5+3=8 as fast as you do and you might not know the shape of the buttocks of that callipygian person standing next to you when you begin to draw. And also it is alright to not be as quick as the other artist in the room or as the other mathematician because all brains think differently, approach uniquely, see distinctively, speak weirdly and act similarity.