We came back from the 'away' part of our vacation with a fair few pictures for processing, but first we went to visit the family in the country where I discovered this tractor in their sandpit.
In between taking some shots in a sand pit I was reading the first few chapters of a nineteenth century children's novel, a classic if you like, that today's children have to read here in Poland. In fact, they read so much eighteenth to early twentieth century poetry and novels they later have problems valuing modern writing.
Where does this leave the modern author? With a much reduced market, sadly. Mention this in public and you are likely to be savaged by the vocal public with a Pavlovian induced respect for the the nineteenth century.
Childhood can be a treasure, but like the past it is a place forever locked away. Much as I might want to play with this tractor in the sand, I have responsibilities here, today, which cannot be ignored. I just wish people realized that this is also important for writing.
Pensive Trevor
11 years ago
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