I Go Down To My

I Was Already Beginning To Realize That The Only Way To Conduct Oneself In A Situation Where Bombs Rained Down And Bullets Whizzed Past, Was To Accept The Dangers And All The Consequences As Calmly As Possible. Fretting And Sweating About It All Was Not Going To Help.

I Am Only 8 Years Old, I Told Myself. No Little Boy Of 8 Has Ever Murdered Anyone. It's Not Possible.

You Can Write About Anything For Children As Long As You've Got Humour.

And Above All, Watch With Glittering Eyes The Whole World Around You Because The Greatest Secrets Are Always Hidden In The Most Unlikely Places. Those Who Don't Believe In Magic Will Never Find It.

I Go Down To My Little Hut, Where It's Tight And Dark And Warm, And Within Minutes I Can Go Back To Being Six Or Seven Or Eight Again.