In and out of the weeping willow trees he went, wandering like a lost spirit. It was as if he was a puppy, just tasting the air. You know checking out those interesting spots. It was as if he was wrapped in the fine tendrils of kelp, drifting in the ocean. But the bad lands awaited him. For he left his paradise and headed out over swathes of grass, past signs which said Keep Off. All the colours of the rainbow lay before him, as the parks gardener shouted can’t you read lad. But he could neither read or hear.
Happy new year readers, todays story is from my memoirs, I was about five years of age, and rather deaf.