Childhood, a precious playtime, an eternity of tender liberty. Today, limits with perceived boundaries, seeking serenity. It took years to go back, when we did, a moment had not elapsed. The same solid iron A-framed curly rubber-seated swings swung, filled with us, launching us backard, forward, out of, and into our past. The slide slid us downward; pages windspept from a century calendar.

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