"My thoughts fly far, far away in my childhood home, in my universe closed in time, in our room where several generations grew up, each with its own lives and stories.
I look around our room, back home after many years, and it's as if time has stopped here, all the things have remained like that for decades, even if my people left a long time ago, only now they are dusty and from place to place you can still see each a spider's web that has remained witness to the passage of so many generations.
I look in the old mirror behind the door, made of wood, and I think of all those who looked in it before me and I didn't get to know them, except from stories and memories.
I look through the windows of our room, which are now dusty, they are like a gateway back in time teleporting me directly to our yard full of birds and animals, me being just a child.
And my thoughts flew to the trees planted by me and my grandfather in the yard, which are filled with white flowers every spring.
Time has passed, but the memories of many generations who once spent their childhood in our little room remain.
And I, the youngest of the family, was left to tell them the story."
