As a child, I always believed the sky to be a sacred little realm where the Faerie-people often had seed-cakes and pudding to satisfy the hunger pangs that provoked their stomachs. Sometimes they dined under the stars, with the moon to guide their evening serenades; and sometimes at the crack of dawn, sewing cobwebs along the seams for tablecloths. They drank sunshine for tea and sculpted the most elegant tables out of clouds and various mists. Silence itself was their music, and it would be sacrilege to deny this common assumption.
Yet, science intruded this childhood fantasy, and soon crooked-nosed tutors tapped their "wands" sharply against whiteboards, instructing us to understand astronomy and the water cycle under microscopic attention. They expected us to be riveted by condensation and steam and bore into our minds the countless constellations that I still cannot thoroughly recollect. I enjoyed learning things through a disparate perspective, but I couldn't relieve myself of the world I worshiped as a child. Time never took its toll when it came to common sense.
I ask you; where have the innocent days gone?
this brings to mind an opinion I once voiced. But yours is more graceful, inspiring more imagination.
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