One of the very first works of fiction I wrote, at approximately age 12 or 13, was heavily influenced by (not to mention plagiarising) something from The Famous Five. Jo, the gypsy girl, takes her dog and runs away, but not without some careful packing of essentials which she loads onto an inflatable raft.
A raft, because it's handy and can be deflated and easily transported also overland (or so I imagined). The story I wrote never got very far beyond a detailed list of the stuff Jo packed.
What intrigues me about this story now, except how ridiculous it is, is how exactly it mirrors my sentiments today - sentiments that lay buried somewhere inside me for decades, under more generic nesting and gathering and mothering instincts. The urge to purge everything out of my life except the essentials, to travel light and be free of baggage.
And to have a dog. But that's another story.
No comments:
Post a Comment