Monday, May 7, 2012

Playground.

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The best place in the world for her, was the little garden with a few swings and a little more children, just having fun. It was the playground she went to every saturday with her parents. It was five minutes from their house and being a smart girl, seven years of age, she had learnt the route by heart now. Get in the car, drive up hill and take a left, as simple as that. And once they were all there, mother father and brother, it was an hour of bliss, of playing in the grass, singing her favourite rhymes for the world to hear, and when it was time to go, finding all sorts of hiding place where her parents couldn't find her. 


She is eight now. She still goes to that park, sings her little rhymes. Keeps looking at her mother though, the other children don't understand why, but she is a prudent child now, and all her hiding places scare her. She eyes her mother and when she senses its time to go, she holds her little brother's hand and goes to her mother. She's beginning to learn the way back as well, as she sits in the back seat with her brother, while her mother drives them back. 









*so I didn't want to take away from the post and thus I add this here to clear any confusions you might have. I am trying to do something here, I wonder if you can see it, and if you do, please comment, I want to develop this idea in a bigger context, maybe part of an elaborate book(I wish). But I need to know if it even makes sense. Although I do encourage people to comment, this time I urge you, if you've read it just write what ever thoughts you may have. It will help me down the line. Thanks.