Children live in the moment, outside the marketplace. Their days are a constant remaking and creating and shedding and imagining. I live with a tiny Edward Lear, in a world of smumpy juice, bikstap, shax, hangangy, gookgooks, bafe. They invent words and questions and ideas I couldn’t dream of. I live with a small artist who draws made-up creatures every day. Their minds overflow with ideas and possibilities. They cherish the world; they cherish being alive.
