For as long as I can remember, I dreamt of the same man every night. He was crying pitifully as we waved goodbye. His bloodshot eyes. His words to me, "You must come back, I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes." Every morning, I cried - curled up in my bed. Who is he? Why is he crying? Why am I crying? I had no answers.

When I was four, Mom sent me a child psychiatrist. Whenever it rains, I was inconsolable. The doctor gave me a pencil and I started to draw - silhouette of a man and his eyes. For two years, I drew him in the doctor's office. Finally, mum decided to enrol me into an art class.