Natures of my Childwood
Introduction - This writing is my writing, and it also belongs to the inner child I never lost but out of fear of loosing a very precious place and site from my life, I've decided to construct this expression of memory. Childwood is not an orthographic mistake. What I want to invoke here is the 500m2 of wild Mediterranean forest that lie on top of sedimentary rocks. Its beauty of chaotic death and life is made of eucalyptus trees and their skin, narcissus flowers and old fat olive trees. This place has been forever there, and changing all the time whenever a few mushrooms grow up tall but disappear before spring and strong winds take down barks. Birds sound lovely but you can't see them, the whole area is rich in colors. On its stones, trees and flowers. Not so far away there is a vast sandy beach where the Atlantic Ocean brings a nice imaginary from the sea world for us to collect. But that is another chapter. In this introduction of my story I'll also present myself: my n...