by Brenda, Joe, roma and Valerie.
There’s a boy, he is flying his kite. I’ve seen that done many times before. It looks like he is flying his kite inside. I don’t think its inside. It’s outside where the clouds are, the blue clouds with stripes. His name is William, before he was playing with his marbles and he was playing with someone. I used to play marbles. It was with one of his friends called Paul Billy. After he would have something to eat, probably with a bit of flavouring or something. Then he would continue playing with his kite. He would run for an ice cream after something else to eat. He could have made his kite out of pieces of paper, yes, just a bit of paper of one sort from his fathers’ desk. He says’ I’m going to tell sister in the morning that I flew a kite”. There’s something else happening but what I don’t know. Just another bit of material he could do something else with, float it about. He would be made to do what he was told, behave himself “think of something else sonny”. Seeing that he was mostly obedient “I’ll do what mum tells me, I’ll go home a good boy”.
(This story was created by the residents of Carinya Dementia Unit at St Joseph’s Hospital Australia 9/8/2012)