wild kingdom
 
 
when the wind joined in
 
 
Some adventures only need a little imagination to become real.
 
 
There are days when childhood seems perfectly capable of inventiong its own world.
All it needs is a wooden sword, a story remembered from yesterday, and someone willing to believe it too.
At first they approached the afternoon carefully.
We had met before. A year had passed.
They were taller now. A little older.
Perhaps just old enough to wonder what I was going to ask them to do.
I didn't ask for much.
Because somewhere between a brother, a little sister and two wooden swords, there was already a story waiting to happen.
It only needed permission to begin.
 
the kingdom awakes
 
 
 
It never takes children very long to forget that someone is photographing them.
One moment there were poses.
The next there were plans.
The wooden swords stopped being souvenirs from yesterday's medieval festival.
They became whatever the story required.
A sword.
A shield.
A reason to chase.
A reason to escape.
And somewhere along the way,
brother and sister stopped participating in a family session.
They had more important responsibilities now.
`There were territories to defend.
Enemies visible only to them.
Rules being invented faster than any adult could possibly understand them.
Their parents watched.
I followed.
And childhood did what childhood does best:
it turned almost nothing into an entire world.
For two children already carrying invisible kingdoms around with them, a little wind was hardly an interruption.
It simply joined the story.
Hair moved.
The sea had become a little louder.
Running suddenly felt more important.
And whatever powers those wooden swords possessed before ...
the wind seemed to give their imagination just a little more room.
what childhood leaves behind
 
 
One day, wooden swaods will become pieces of wood again.
Invisible enemies will stop hiding behind trees.
Running into the wind will no longer feel like gaining superpowers.
Not beacuse the kingdom disappeared.
Because children grow - and their worlds grow with them.
Perhaps that is why photographs matter.
They cannot ask childhood to stay.
They can only hold evidence that once, for the ordinary afternoon,
imagination needed almost nothing to become real.
A wooden sword.
A little wind.
A brother beside you.
And somewhere inside all of that,
an entire kingdom only the two of them knew how to enter.
Once, all it took was a wooden sword, a little imagination,
and someone willing to believe.
That is Wild Kingdom.
 
every family leaves something for tomorrow to remember.
 
 
Another story is waiting just beyond this one.