The playground was deserted, hidden in the wilderness, forgotten by time. I wondered when was the last time an unscarred soul was lost here, unmindful of the foreboding darkness. I looked around, spying the phantoms of playmates from the past. The rusted swings still had a hint of blue. The ground below was depressed. I held the cold chain and recalled the restrained dreams. I stared at the setting sun, feet dangling, my mind resisting the melancholy. I wanted to fly again, reclaim my innocence, forget the lessons and be alive. I struggled to reach higher. Each thrust brought me closer to the sky, as I searched for the feeling of exhilaration that has eluded me for long. A stir in the stillness. A smile without a reason. Alone in the darkness, I finally had an answer. When do Swingers become Jumpers?