![]() It’s only two years old but has no marks of newness and could just as well have been here for decades. The Land is a playground that takes up nearly an acre at the far end of a quiet housing development in North Wales. ![]() “Not exactly,” I tell him, although it’s inspired by one. “Is this a junkyard?” asks my 5-year-old son, Gideon, who has come with me to visit. When the heavy gate finally swings open, Dylan, the boys, and about a dozen other children race directly to their favorite spots, although it’s hard to see how they navigate so expertly amid the chaos. He tries to figure out what half an hour is and whether he can wait that long. “The Land! It opens in half an hour.” Down a path and across a grassy square, 5-year-old Dylan can hear them through the window of his nana’s front room. A trio of boys tramps along the length of a wooden fence, back and forth, shouting like carnival barkers.
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