Two years
To party without her friends is inconceivable.
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
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Two years
To party without her friends is inconceivable.
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
Ref:
Photo
Date:
Location:
Photographer:
THOUGHT
Two years
To party without her friends is inconceivable.
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
Rushing to their boxes, all have to be here. With tiny fingers each is placed in excitement. Precisely and in fun. A world of magic in which all things around her, all that she touches, is alive. And in the moment reminding how we have so forgotten. Reminding how in our origins all in our world had life too. All around us contained the spirit of life and for eons we paid it homage.
Her little mind perplexed by our division when there is none. All is alive, there is no inanimate. Disarmingly, gently reminding us of our amnesia. Her little eyes gazing, as if “this is so obvious, how could you not know?”
Toy is our word not the word of a child. A toy is a trifle, a diversion of no practical use. Yet for a child a toy is life, for it is play. To play, to leap for joy, to be glad. But for us play is a diversion, it is not serious, not the business of life.
Does a small child understand naturally what we have somehow lost?
What might our lives be like if we could be play like a child?
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
