For a long time, cinema was a world I wasn’t allowed to enter. I grew up in a home where movies were banned. No television, no glimpses of silver screens, and no songs echoing from old classics. For nearly a decade, cinema was a forbidden word like a secret behind a closed door. And yet, like all things that carry truth and longing, it found its way to me. Stories have a way of finding you, slipping through cracks, whispered between pages, caught in melodies. Sometimes through the corners of borrowed books, sometimes through whispered summaries from classmates, sometimes just through the magnetic pull of posters and songs I wasn’t supposed to hear.
