Mark Cator
- Aug 19, 2018
- 1 min read

A Summer Passed

There was a feral nature to the days of Summer. The children came and went as the days came and went, always the unexpected against the prevailing norm and I hold on to this image, foraging back in time to my own childhood and childhoods yet to be. But the imagined landscape that only the child is able to create, is rapidly being subverted by the hazy ideals of adults and their own marginal understandings of the world they entertain and the world they inhabit.

Childhood is the experience unburdened by identity and yet, in my lifetime we have turned children in to slaves of the adult imagination, neatly vectorised, targetised and assessed by some benign judgement. The childs' space has become the chaos of collapsed space, this constant barracking by the immediate, this false god of our age.

Sometimes I put on a show of being grown up but most of the time it bores me. Everything was possible, humour will sort out the rest