prose · writing

The End of Childhood

There’s a natural turning point in childhood when we become increasingly aware of ourselves and hypercritical of others. We notice things more vividly as if a fog has been lifted from our eyes. Did that not-so-close family friend of ours always have a moustache? Was that fence always yellow? I’ve never noticed that Aunt Jenny’s thighs look like a drooping cheese… Continue reading The End of Childhood