The winter, my first memory, I fell into the snow.  I tasted it, it was a bit sweet and crispy. I listened to its crunch. My face was hurting, the snow burned it.

Then the spring. I was skipping my lessons. I was looking at young and shy yellow flowers. Birds were singing the same melody. The spring smelled of degradation and smog, but I thought it was a smell of a new life, hope and happiness.

The summer, the forest and the basket with strawberry in it. The high grace was tickling my naked legs. I was putting a red berry on my tongue. It was wet and sweet.

The autumn. I was waiting a bus. There were a lot of people with umbrellas around me. I smelled dust, the water would wash it away soon. I turned back on the strong wind and listened to the sound of a coming bus.  

The life. Tastes, smells, sounds, pictures, memories. They are mine, they are me, I’m made from them. I love them and I will save them forever.