A child runs the length of the floor of a Costa coffee inside a Next Home shop inside a shopping centre in Barking. The child falls on the floor and smashes his face. The first memory he has in this tender age is me laughing at his smashed face. The first memory he has in this tender age is my loud laughter that echoes on the massive windows of the cafe, beyond the metal hydraulic panels of parcel force, beyond the pine trees of Barking forest. The dog is barking, I’m laughing , the mother of the child is crying. The barista has had enough, she comes and smacks me over the face. I laugh louder and louder, I’m so happy and held in this tender age, my first memory of laughter. 

Another baby is sitting next to me. She has more hairs than any baby should have at this age. Her eyes are massive and stuck on the sides of her head. This is not a baby. This is our bright future. Our brightest of our bright future. And I treasure it forever.