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stories of noisy silence

the playground


the slide. it was our tower of babel. with enough strength, endurance, cunning and ruthlessness, one could become a god. one to whom respect was due. the one first chosen in our game of football. the one who made and changed the rules.

it was on the slide that we learned our roles. an unlucky slip, and you lose. as you struggled to gain godliness, you could smell when another was unsure of his footing or was pushed by another climber. this is when you make your move. act quick. force yourself through the opening. “a god i will be,” you say to yourself.

the swing. it was my hermitage. escape. [squeak, squeak] almost silence. alone, i could be with the sky. when i grow up, i’m going to . . .; i wonder if she . . .; i wish my parents would . . .; just a little bit higher and my toes will touch the clouds. it’s time to fly. 1 – swing, swing – 2 – swing – 3 –


About david b. clark

a husband and father || a student of philosophy, theology, history, literature, music, art, computer science


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