With time, though, I outgrew elementary school and moved on. By then swinging was a mere ghost of a memory and w forgotten. Almost. The summer before high school, I revisited my old playground. Like an abandoned house, it had all the memories of a previous home, and yet, I was drawn to only the swings. If there's something strange and magical about a swing Doo it's because it's never empty for long. The air was still as I got on the metal chains never made a sound. Slowly, as I swung, remembered, no, embraced. I embraced the cool wind on my face, the thrill of being weightless, the knowledge of being too high for any trouble to reach. And I embraced what it was like to be a child again. Sometimes I can still see that teenage girl on the deserted playground. Just swinging. 1. Who are the characters? 2. Where is the setting? Details: Objective details (at least 2) (1) Subjective details (at least 2) (1) Anecdote: 3 Is the autobiran by in chronological order? Show brief chronolow of the subiect's life​