Little Drawings, Less Words, Loud Ideas

Imagine flipping through the pages of a beautifully illustrated book.

Your fingers slow down instinctively, as if they already know this isn’t something to rush.
Your eyes linger for details, every illustration holds your attention – characters frozen mid conversation, their expressions layered with feelings.
The colours are often soft, pastel, sometimes faded just enough to feel lived-in, the pictures are sometimes imperfect, simple and detailed.

With every page, your mind quietens.

You don’t skim or scroll.
You stay…

Reading this way feels different, it doesn’t demand urgency, it asks for presence. And there’s something deeply therapeutic about letting every word and every image land fully, without asking what comes next.

I remember watching a video of a woman who chose to create art slowly and mindfully. She spoke about how art was never meant to be rushed – how it loses its soul when created in haste.

That thought stayed with me, it felt true.
Not just for art, but for the thought itself.

It feels like something that was once pruned out of my brain has quietly reconnected.

Creativity has begun finding its way back in – through small DIY projects, painting, reciting poems. Mindful reading has become my way of decluttering the mind, without forcing it to be productive or useful.

Just being present.
And that, in itself, feels like a rare luxury.

I’ve often wondered why storytelling feels like such a tricky skill to build. I remember people reminding me to keep thoughts, words and conversations simple, and yet I never quite got a clear idea of it, until now.

I understand that storytelling is lost in complexity because this skill demands observation and connection – two things that don’t thrive in speed or jargons.

The process behind storytelling is slow work.
It’s intrinsic.
More like painting something over time – layer by layer – and only framing it when it’s ready.

You can’t rush it nor fake it.

Today, there are endless frameworks, prompts, and formulas for storytelling.

But for the listener, only one simple thing truly matters.

The story that is simple that connects at a basic human level , delivered clearly.

Everything else is decoration.

As creative minds working in creative spaces, this kind of white noise – reading slowly, observing quietly, noticing without reacting – becomes essential.

It trains the eye, softens the mind and sharpens awareness. It reminds us how to observe the tiny details.

We scroll through reels every day, there’s plenty of information there.
What’s missing is attention and without attention, nothing truly settles in.

So, maybe creativity doesn’t disappear, it waits. It waits for us to slow down.

To stop and notice.

PS: At toss the coin, you’ll find an illustration book in almost every corner.
Pick one. Sit with it for a while.
You might just find the one that quietly changes the way you see things.

Storyteller