All The Wild Horses

As a young boy I lived in a neighborhood surrounded by wild mustard weeds. In the spring and summer I spent hours building tunnels and forts in the fields with my brothers and friends. A sense of freedom that was anathema to the tension I lived with in the house. A magic land left to the imaginations, and the machinations of the children. No adults allowed. No one coming around to dictate rules, create boundaries, or impose unreasonable expectations. We wound the tunnels around for, what se...