As a little boy, I used to spin round and round, making noises while waving my hands back and forth in the air. My family called it "explosions." They couldn't quite understand why I was doing that and became a little worried while trying to uncover the reasons. They figured it must be a passing phase. I remember they always jokingly asked, "Alon, will you still be making explosions when you're an adult?" And I replied "yes," confident in my answer, searching for a way to regain focus.

I remember what those "explosions" were. They were an expression of my imagination in the most tangible way I could come up with at the time. I would run in circles, making sounds, as I conjured up what could be considered music, stories, or abstract ideas, though difficult to wrap meaning around.

In fact, I have never stopped making "explosions." The only difference is that today, everyone can hear them.