In front of my house I have a beautiful park. Beautiful, at least in the parameters of this urban concrete hole. These are trees, banks and bedbugs that combine the beginning and end of life, children and the elderly of extreme ages. If there are no surveillance tasks, the adults do not attend because they have other spaces. But more and more young people and adults are on the banks. They do have another origin and balance the age of the park.

In the middle without swings, the balls are the owners. Sir, because those persecuted by the ball are children and not so children. Owners, of the plaza, fearing balls. In addition, the ball makes the girls disappear from the center and condemn them to the shores. Master and owner.

Children have been asked when it comes to designing parks in some villages, but not the elderly, or the caregivers, because in our imagination the park is only that of children, not the oldest, not that of adults. Adults to bars. The old ones, there they manage.

But enjoying the shade and the wind should be an opportunity for all and claiming more human parks for all.