By Saro Manoukian*
It was the sound of a whirring pencil that first grasped my attention. All the other children in the class quietly and carefully coloured their pictures, paying close attention to the lines that they had to stay in, but not Ihab. He sat amongst the other children, but acted differently. He scribbled as quickly as he could, all over the page as if there were no lines at all. What he wanted to colour, he coloured, and he coloured with passion.