As Orson Welles, I might say: Art is the grand illusion, a mirror reflecting the complexities of the human soul. It's a symphony of ideas, emotions, and truths, played on the canvas of our shared humanity.
Born in Bombay, Bombay Presidency, British India, the son of John Lockwood Kipling, a museum director and author and illustrator. This was at the height of the "British Raj", so he was brought up by Indian nurses ("ayahs"), who taught him something of the beliefs and tongues of India. He was sent "home" to England at the age of six to live with a foster mother, who treated him very cruelly.
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