Monday, May 6, 2013


There is a childhood dream behind that gate. A young boy waits for his father to return, a pretty girl in a floral frock orders what the world is like beyond the garden gate, a padlock secures an empty space from intruders, a forgotten garden withers in the winter light. The path is overgrown and the steps of generations is buried by thistle and thorns. It all seems a bit forbidding now. Just another dream from the other side of the white picket gate.

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