The nettle stings, scrapes, scratches, and scuffed shoes were far removed from us; the last worry as we cut, crisscrossing to create a crawl space through a wall of flesh-hungry growth - at first - to gain access to more flesh-hungry growth
The discipline - for me - was an exhorted departure but the product was worth every scab; an open space where we could be: undisturbed, unfettered, unchained, and with a live canopy we were free to create more, build more, care more and leave a sliver of our growth
Perhaps more than a sliver. Perhaps it has become my definition of what it meant to be young and to find a fit; connect with the other forgers - akin to a close-knit military unit - collecting driftwood, desks, drawers, drapes, and designated seats to burn or to use as decor
And decorated it was. Spectacularly so! Swings hanging from the sturdiest branches, discarded rugs coated with muck, leaves, and filth dragged in to line our atrium, a place for every member and a code: "Nobody but us"
Simple society solidified with barbaric politics. A system preaching tribal nonsense can't last long. Mostly the damage was done when things got less simple; when we grew and outgrew and the fences were put up. The homes and the simple society were moved in shortly after
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A group of friends that hung around together when we were younger used to spend our summer months hollowing out nettle and bramble infested areas of land to create secret bases to hang out in. It is by far my favourite period of my childhood. The amount of work some people put in was incredible. The outcome - even more so. Eventually, the main bit of land was sold and there were apartments built. I think it's a shame that suburbs are becoming so built up that kids struggle to find a place of their own. I really appreciate those days when things were more simple.