THE CHILDREN’S children. We had a week in the city with which to consider the arts along side the children from the neighborhood. We made both bugs and people, jumped up and down on the carpet. We did not use our inside-voices. Then we wondered aloud where do children come from.
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MM // May 13, 2009 at 6:03 pm
I thought I had lost my boy for good–hung him up by his hook next to my winter coat, and when I came back (only a few moments later, I swear!) the coat had tooth-marks down the sleeves and no boy to speak of. But there he is there, you found him, the one who looks like me. The one who dresses like me! There he is, my boy!