Going Into the Woods, by Christine Boese
Youse kids go out and play.
But before you run out, banging the screen door behind you, I have some last minute advice. I'd like to thread a story about going into the woods.
When we grew up the woods didn't go away, did you notice? It just got bigger. Now we call it the world, or IRL, or the subway, or relocating to go to graduate school, or backpacking through Europe, or driving on bald tires across four states to make it to your grandmother's for Christmas.
In 1992, I was on one of those cross-country adventures, driving 15 hours a day and thinking about multimedia and literature, particularly fiction, and how New Media would affect storytelling. I had seen a local production of Into the Woods that summer and on impulse bought the soundtrack and was playing it over and over. I might have also been thinking about Shakespearean comedies where lovers chase each other all around the Forests of Arden. Then again, I could have been thinking about the bad nachos I'd had at the last Gas Quickie Mart. Basically, I was free associating. My mind seemed to be jumping around randomly, with no direction or purpose.