Footsteps will come home later – they go back through childhood, where the sky seemed only a roof of water, and the horizon called like the old parents are calling today.

Winter awakens childhood inside every being, dressing it in its purity as if for a soul rooting ritual.

We have old parents so we can learn old age, humanity..

People are a chain of souls, sometimes so entangled, that they forget who, where they have to go, to be home.

Life – a sort of a plate of real-imaginary from which we nibble together with the birds of light and darkness, with the poor and well-to-do of the world at grains of to be once rough (like sharp stones), other times more like the pulp of pomegranates and ripe figs; stairs I have to climb in myself and climb down... to sometimes walk along the roads of infinity, other times, how many, to stop before the first step, waiting for the path home...

The character dies in childhood but is given a chance to go back home and see her parents and siblings,