My generation grew up on these playgrounds back when there were no restrictions on children being outside without parental supervision. The playground in the courtyard enclosed by large apartment complexes or in the neighborhood was our legal territory. There, battles were fought, treasure was hidden, and we could isolate ourselves from the incomprehensible world of adults. Everyone was Zorro or D'Artagnan. The sandbox could turn into Tatooine. There were no adults there – and it wasn’t their place to be in, even if the playground was built from metal pipes and rails. By the way, I was always amazed by the use of old car tires on playgrounds of my childhood. Even painted brightly, they evoked a feeling of despondency and, in a sense, tragedy.