Playing alone Words by Charlotte Stewart Illustration by Emily Fu
T
he defining feature of an only-childhood is playing alone. As the solitary offspring of my parents, I conjured for myself a rich world of make-believe, the nooks and crannies of which—depending on their content, and to a dwindling extent as I aged—I shared with my parents and no one else. In it, I was an
undercover agent, teddy bear surgeon, mayor of insects, and Ken and Barbie’s marriage counsellor. Through dedicated personification efforts, I rendered from the inanimate a colourful cast of characters (read: surrogate siblings) to share this world with me. Though I was a sociable child and played happily with
SPRING 2020
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