In the evening, as the sun was setting, its rays filtering through the clouds like a rose-gold halo, my friend and I made our way to the theatre.

It was a small theatre, and we gathered in the courtyard. The storytellers were all different, expressing their stories in wildly different ways, yet all of them managed to capture the audience’s attention. They told us about the moon, and demons, and flowers, and cats, and seas.

It was a peculiar feeling, listening to these stories without props or images or written words. I visualised the stories as though I was reading a book, but the atmosphere was radically different. Storytelling, I understood, is a very human experience meant to be enjoyed in the company of others, even if they are strangers. You just sit in silence altogether, entranced by the storyteller.