Dreams from an age of innocence

I 'hated' art when I was 13. Ok, I was teenage. I probably hated all sorts of other things too (such as P.E. - but that's for another day). We got the opportunity to use clay to make a tile- anything we wanted. I chose to portray my favourite place in the world. An imaginary small secluded cottage in the countryside with a wild flower walled garden and a red 2CV  to roam around and about with the roof down and the sun beating down on me. 
I remember struggling to attach the car and Sir coming over to attach it for me- then struggling with the painting afterwards and feeling a little sad it had cracked during the firing process. 

The tile has so many memories associated with it and an air of innocence with promise of the future. Its been wrapped and stored since I left home- I think I'm going to try to get it displayed somehow. I know its hardly a Michael Angelo but its a piece from the me that existed over two decades ago. Its good to connect to the inner child, I wish more people let go and allowed a peep into the past. The age of innocence.