Post by Ksenia Anske (@kseniaanske) on Wed, 04 Feb 15 06:46:34 +0000 View Full Post Loneliness. It's something we writers as kids have been faced with. The strange kids, the dreamers, the ones shunned and avoided and bullied. We craved company. We didn't get it, so we invented whole worlds in our heads. That is how I remember myself. When I was 5 or so, my grandma (this is in Soviet Russia) used to buy tart persimmons on the market and let them ripen under her bed on a layer of crinkly newspapers. I was forbidden to touch them. I remember looking under and seeing a whole sea of them. A PERSIMMON SEA. I didn't imagine it, I saw it. It was real. Or the other time I built a city out of blocks and I "saw" people and cars and airplanes moving in it. These were my first stories, stories written in my head.What were yours? What are the earliest you remember, if any?