We scream, we laugh, we push each other over and roll in the dirt, coat each other in sand, warm water splashes out from under our fingertips and sprinkles freckles on all our faces without exception, and at last we’re a summery, uncaring, noisy creature, ten times as tall as the grownups and twenty times louder. I pinch my eyes shut and the skin of the girl next door, who I know only from a distance because I’m not allowed out of our house, brushes against mine and is velvet.
Entrecierro los ojos, la piel de la hija de los vecinos, que sólo conozco de lejos porque no tengo permiso para salir de la casa, roza la mía y es de terciopelo.