If freedom were a place, it indeed would be beautiful. It would be a place where we were surrounded by gardens with blooming flowers in pink, yellow, white and technicolour too.

It would have been a place where people lived in harmony and sang songs of peace. A place where thoughts valued more than just an appearance, unlike the place I live.

A place so vivid in my thoughts but yet reality trying to make it real. It would also have paths that I would then walk on and would feel as though the place belonged to me, as if it were my own.

It would be a place where the true meaning of the pen being mightier than the sword indeed reflected and not just simply be a phrase learnt in school.

Someday I wish to wake up, look outside my window and see – black, brown and white living together in peace. The bird outside my window sang, what I always wished for, it sang about freedom.

It would be a place where freedom was free and did not beg to be free, where you could be you and I could be me.