Today I watched two teenagers at Bickford park move their limbs in slow exaggeration from one hundred paces, then collapse into an enormous hug. “Hey! Do you want to slow motion run towards each other?” “Ya.”

If I hadn’t seen it, it would have seemed like a dream. Not like something teenagers do—I assume they’re too much like us, only somehow more: violent, a heightened fever. It’s easy to forget your own capacity for openness and play.

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