I remember life after the war.

Hiding in the ruins of the bombed buildings.

The man with no legs pushing his way on a tiny platform.

I remember playing alone.

I remember playing with the other children.

We did not have any toys.

We were making our own.

I remember the girl on the third floor.

She never played with us.

She was a ballerina.

I remember the stale smell of dark corridors.

I remember the drowned man exhausted from his last fight.

I remember faces that never smiled.

I remember my first day in school.

Hiding my face in the teachers lap and crying.

She let me go home.

I remember cold waters of the Baltic sea.

I remember sunsets and the silent silhouettes along the shoreline.

I remember the forest full of secrets.

I remember an unfinished painting and nobody around.

I remember the white aprons and the golden glow of fish in the baskets.

I remember the music teacher striking my fingers with a pencil.

I remember marching in a column.

I remember laying flowers to the monument of Lenin.

I remember my first glass of wine.

I remember the first girl I loved.

I remember my childhood.


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