Soft snow was falling over me and inside I was so very cold. But I liked it. I liked catching the flakes on my tongue, icy flakes that melted in my mouth so that I could drink the cold. ‘Darling, why are you crying?’ My mummy’s voice broke through. ‘I’m not mummy.’ ‘Emmy, I can…
Read MoreBlake’s Songs of Innocence draws a picture of the child still smiling and playing in the flowered garden, still ‘piping down the valleys’. Adults look on, cherishing their young ones without condition. The later image that Rousseau describes was of the young having their own place in society as never before. Children existed in their…
Read MoreWho wants the child? Who wants the lie? Who wants this waste of space? The child should die. Who’ll want this girl? Who’ll stand the cries? Who’ll soothe away her pain? Who’ll care if she dies? She wants to be wanted she doesn’t want lies she wants soothing space; she’d rather have died.
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