We had imagination

By Lennart Lundh

and friendship, endless amounts of both fueling summer days spent in the broken landscape of older lives than ours. Some days, the gutted, unwheeled sedan was a light tank carrying us through newly liberated towns where crowds cheered us on to the next battle, others an ambulance rushing to an accident, a ladder truck off to save a cat whose bravery ended halfway up an oak. For a few incredible hours, it was even a battleship that submerged to fool the bad guys. In many ways, it was school bus and one-roomed schoolhouse.

 

And then the years passed, as they needed to: We grew, became busy and productive, so many ways burned out and abandoned. I wish I knew what happened to those friends, that melted car.

 

(after the photograph “The Melted Car” (1944), by Robert Doisneau)

 

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