There's nothing that takes me back to my childhood quite like flying a kite.
It's a strange activity: tie a piece of string to a diamond-shaped paper affixed to a cross made out of lightweight wood, run when the wind is blowing while pulling on the string, and boom. Fun, high-flying times will be had.
There's something almost freeing and magical about it, running across an open field or park with the hope that the elusive wind will hit the kite just right, lifting it effortlessly into the upper parts of the atmosphere (at least, that's how high I tell myself it goes).
Why don't we fly kites as adults? I miss it.
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