first stories

remembering first story worlds from childhood.  In the back yard elaborate tales featuring enormous pieces of fruit from fruit of the loom, my dad’s brand.  These were not goofy tales.  They were epic dramas sometimes in outer space.  In the tub I always returned to my traveling mermaid chicken of the sea.  This was not playing with a can.  I don’t even think there was a toy to represent her.  I made a lot of towers and landscapes with suds.

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