Years ago, when I was a young father, I wrote MAGIC WOOD on a single piece of cord wood each year and buried it deep within the stacks, an inducement to get my son, as a boy, to carry wood up from the basement. If he found it, as he always did, he could trade it in for a trip to the movies or a day at a local arcade, his pleasure at each years discovery fresh and triumphant, his glory at having a day on his own terms a victory for children living beneath the endless tyranny of their parents in every corner of the globe. 
at 21:02
- Andromenadda, CurrentNobody and MyM like this
