Then.

Looking back always has more romance than looking forward. That’s why none of my conversations are complete without anecdotes of my childhood. Of the downhill run to school with many kilos of bag, a burden I never felt. Of plucking wild flowers on my way back and lovingly leaving them to dry in my notebook. Of the fact that I had dry red cheeks. Of my home knit sweater often getting stuck in bushes that ran parallel to narrow trails. Of my many narrow escapes with nature. Of roaming around aimlessly for hours, with leaves, flowers, pebbles for company. Of being free.