I have a thing for swings. I guess it’s the way the air giggles through my hair… or maybe it’s the rush I feel every time my legs are extended in the air and I have no care in the world for a moment, then again maybe it’s the push; the never stopping. I don’t remember a time where I wanted to get off a swing.
In philosophy, a swing in many ways resembles life: one moment you’re staring at the sky, the other you feel like you’re hitting the ground.
I have a thing for swings; the child that forever lives inside of me does. It’s been a wonderful part of my childhood, part of my own.