easter in the village (III)
the walk takes us to the local schools - the schools i attended to in the early years of my life. i remember the old builings, the closed yard where we played football whenever we could. i remember the huge pine trees, those that were full of those nasty allergy-carrier catterpillars every winter - i remember one day when we took down a lot of nests, made a pile with them, smeared gasoline all over and watched them burn. i remember the huge sandbox of the playground, the rusty iron structures where we play. i even remember the airplace - yes, we did have an airplane in our playground. a real one, a weathered war machine, a broken mesh of twisted metal, sharp edges and broken glass. i remember the walls surrounding the schools - not really high, so even a seven-year old kid could climb them with ease. that is all gone now. the plane was dismantled a long time ago, and taken somewhere else to rust in peace. the pine trees were chopped down. the closed yard was split in two and rebuild, following all modern security rules. the sandbox has been removed and replaced by some kind of clean rubber cover. it is impossible to find mud or loose stones in that playground, and i wonder if the grass is real or artificial. a huge metallic fence was build over the walls, so no one can get in or out. a modern school, they say, where children can be safe from everything, even from themselves. a prison, i say, one that would make any child of my generation sad as hell. we are raising kids in an artificial world, where they can not run freely or understand the notion of danger. we are creating a society of lunatics. the insanity has reached my village. and it makes me sad.
guess what? my knees bear scars. a lot of scars. i've lost count on how many times i've hurt them and watch them bleed. and i survived it. those kids wouldn't. i'm truly sorry for them.
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