Memory The boy looks out of the window in search of a dream world. He wants to keep hold of it, for a moment at least, this ephemeral air-filled balloon. Not for him the disenchanted fantasy of childhood. His every day is pain, injustice and prejudice. The dream vanishes. The distant sound of a merry-go-round and a teddy bear disappear, swallowed up in the quicksand of renunciation. His mother is in tears for she knows the truth, the torment of her child. |