Big toy worldJoni Wallace
At four you could make yourself invisible and stay that way, make a world out of egg cartons and glitter, here a picnic, here a glass town. Sometimes you still see inside your head, a filmstrip strip of sticker stars and striped skirts, you are parachute-girl, you are dance girl, you are swagger, you are swim. Then nothing. Disappeared. Float for hours, happy as it is. You can’t tell if the air is moving. Clouds stretch into a chain. No ghost, no broken boat, no swan looks away.
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