the child

t h e   c h i l d

In this red brick home all the children would create beautiful uncontrolled chaos, leaving sticky finger marks up the walls and across the bannisters. The children would spend the day running wild through the hallways and would chasing our two black Vietnamese pot bellied pigs through the plastic garden maze, screaming in pure delight.

Afterwards collapsing with muddy knees and crumpled clothes, they would beg for marshmallows and unknowingly share their wisdom with us. 

'Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children'

Kahil Gibran