Yesterday, I re-found one forgotten cardboard, hidden under bags, papers, and table in my bedroom:
And pulling out everything in it, I found out how maniac I am:
I didn't even understand how to read when I got those books.
Oh, and this:
Cute. I got them when I was 10.
Really. I'm serious.
Then, I climbed the attic and met the superbly dirty and old cupboard:
Sometimes it has a horror feel. Within the old lesson books and a twilight of dust, I found another piece of memory:
I read it when I was little.
Really.
And I collect books, even since the times I can't read.
I'm serious. I swear.
Oh, and I met one odd view in my neighborhood:
I've never known that my neighbor has been that far. Cactussy.
Phew. These dust make me cough.
Well, that were just the little pieces. You haven't seen more.. And more. And MORE.
Now I'm going to read my Teletubbies again.