The wall
It is a 10 by 3 meters bramble branches wall. A tightly woven set of thorns, an impenetrable and intimidating vegetal universe.
I attacked it like a giant Mikado game, initially securing a corridor to the roots, then heading laterally. It is a game one seldom wins unharmed; the thorns come through the thickest gloves and there is always a rogue creeper to lash your face when you are getting rid of its neighbour.
Léo is 9 years old. He first hits the wall with a rake, to "bust it all" then, considering the lack of efficiency of this frontal burst of energy, he decides to pull branches in order to ease their removing. Finally, when I have a break, he wears the heavy gloves, get the branch clippers and gets himself immersed in the vegetal mass to gain access to its roots.
Step by step he became aware of the way a complex system should be addressed. The wall is condemned.
