And it shouldn't be hard to imagine why, because their days were full of adventures in the trees, building sandcastles of ancient cities on the sandy shore, and reclining near the mulberry trees to cloud-watch, draw, and write haikus. In this land, every cloud looked like something spectacular; every drawing was worthy of being in the Louvre; and every haiku was perfect, regardless of whether it contained exact 5-7-5 structure.
In this land, the nights were full of songs and happy shouts and wonderfully sticky cooked-over-the-fire concoctions. Even the worst of storms was an excuse for singing.
And in this land, birthdays were an occasion for a jolly good catch-up with an old, furry friend or two.
Who could not be always having fun?
This land existed. Exists. It is where we carry it. The people of this land cannot miss it, because it is always with them.