Like in the old days

There is no doubt that when we talk about childhood, we can expect any surprise. Nothing is too small or too big. There are no limits drawn. The word "impossible" does not exist.

Worlds of illusion only available to those who are worthy, to those who are pure, innocent and helpless. Places where a cardboard box can be anything except a simple cardboard box. Maybe the sky and its clouds, an entire zoo, a chair, or even the most gigantic skyscraper you can imagine.

There is no doubt that when we talk about childhood, we can expect any surprise. Nothing is too small or too big. There are no limits drawn. The word "impossible" does not exist. For me children are the worthy bearers of a magical power, a special ability. There is something in childhood that goes beyond the simple imagination and understanding of an adult.

However, that magic is not eternal, it lasts some wonderful years, maybe the best years of our lives. Over time it diminishes, perhaps because we stop being innocent, or because we become prisoners of reality and its suffocating logical norms. Over time, the world riddles us with ideas that decide what can be physically and logically possible. The cardboard box becomes now just that: a box.

Now I am 28 years old. I have a vague memory of the places I visited without leaving my garden, the missions I fulfilled in my mother's kitchen, and even an infinity of professions in which I had enough experience to work in without even being ten years old.

Now it's hard for me to give a clear explanation, and maybe that's my mistake. I am looking for an explanation for something that does not need to be explained. The search for something logical in the illogical will never result in anything.

So that is where I believe the only thing that is needed to be able to enter the childhood imagination again is to wish it, feel it real and this world will become real, just like in the old days.