I did it for me.

The anthemic, no-holds-barred album version of your favourite song being stripped down to its very core, laying bare soulful melodies that made up an emotional play of delicate acoustic wonder.

The sleek and shiny, limited edition matchbox-sized convertible behind the glass display being pushed to the deepest corner, swiftly making way for a hot blue Thomas the Tank Engine toy.

The meddling pixies and enchanted lands from the faraway fairy tales of yore being transformed into mindless robots and gridlocked nations from the stories of today’s papers, reminding us of the very reality that we now live in.

Somewhere, somehow, we had become exiled from the land of the free, having inevitably fallen into the unmagnificent lives of adults.

There is no turning back, but most times I am unsure which side I am on.

Half a heart.

It is not just about a simple switch of colours, or a mere change in numbers.

At its very surface, it may be: a sort of a tender sky blue giving way to an electric high violet; a humble 23 in favour of an equally unremarkable 27; shiny black and white keys to stiff copper bronze strings; rolling green mountains towering over deep blue seas; a lingering fat yellow moon before a smile full of rainbows.

But given the right choice, and subject to a universal mutual agreement that aligns the sun, stars, and everything in between, sometimes the most trivial things are the ones that best define who you are.

Shapeshifting.

It could have been like any other day – dull and dreary to the bone, tired and stripped bare to the core.

But the sky was bluer than any other blue ever possibly concocted by a meticulous painter in preparation for his first masterpiece; the clouds as white and fluffy as newly harvested wool off an unsuspecting sheep; and the moon so bright, it could help power the streetlights of a small, fiercely independent nation.

A skip to your step, a leap to your heart, and no one would want to have it any other way.