Window.

Ancient but still unfading memories.

Surrounded since I took my first steps, since my first words.

As a young brave teenager, the juicy imagination of what it would be like to live life as David Beckham.

The past blinded by scepticism.

The privilege of being born into the promised land.

I see couples fly in the square.

Guess who received the juicy lollipop?

Trapped in a hole, where it is better.

Maybe, because born naughty.

Mmm.

I always loved visiting my grandparents.

Too young, too old.

Spilt milk on the floor.

Caring parents, always protecting their own child.

A naïve soul.

A cold sharp wind arriving without any notice, in a time, when the mood, day, everything is kind.

Barely able to speak.

Object.

A fresh breeze blowing down the street, behind closed concrete walls –gifted with pleasantly flowing heat.

During childhood, wanting to grow up.

Those are the days, when a grey shadow is drowning in memories.

I can hear the words coming from their mouths.

I’m so weak, I told myself, it’ll just be 1 week, Look at yourself now, How could you let this happen, tell me how?

Walking quietly.

My old self was not always here for me.

The times when beautiful tones could be heard are gone.

Being a child has many advantages.

Early morning, awoken by an unnatural sound of a plastic machine, from a calm sleep to a busy life.

Brought up without a direction, talking without action.

I came into this life, this rough world, as a small child, gifted a kind personality and a big heart.

Immediately after being born, surrounded by loved ones.