A past life.

Greetings dear readers.

Have you ever started remembering something by someone, a smell, an image, a place, etc?
I am sure you have, well let me tell you that, this kind of experience it is called flashback and it is also a method applied in movies and literature.
This week, we worked at class this concept by constructing a little paragraph where we told our first experience remembering the day we met the proffesor Jean Paul.
Here it is what I wrote:
As I am In Jean Paul's class, I hear in the distance the thunders, which reminds me of the frist day I met him with that explosive personality he has and how funny I thought his beard was.

And now if you allow me, I am going to developt this concept in a tale.


Sometimes I look back trying to recover what I lost.  I try to recover those artifacts so useful that were lost in  every battle. I see encapsulated those moments, still in time.
 From that moment there are only a trace of photos that remind me that days like those are not going to happen anymore.

I remember those afternoons when I was going home from my studies. I had to go through some beautiful architectures that matches the nature. Those yellowish shades of light in the morning and afternoon were perfect, therefore I used to turn to not go home and I laid down in the lawn for a while in neighbor garden that was next to an old mansion that had become a nursing home.

After revel in the landscape, I enjoyed  throwing a few stones to the windows of the mansion. It was very fun to break those glasses and fit an occasional pebble in the nurses bra while they came running after me with the spirit of taking me to the police, but I was a very clever boy and just a few people could beat me running. After fleeing and cause such havocs, I headed home hoping to eat a plate of beef soup. My mother used to made the best beef soup.
When I ended the meal I prepared myself to enjoy watching the cartoons with my brother all day long, awating the return of our father's work

He always brought us some surprise; they were mostly toys and trinkets. My mother deceived us grabbing much of what my father brought us by making us believe we could not eat too much sweet and flour.

In this moment I remember those days, those moments are freezen in time. I can feel in every throb how I wish I could revive those glory days, when there was no existence of such a dire word "responsibility". Times when the only thing that worried me was the arrival time of my dad from work.

That was my tale, I hope you liked it. I just have one question for you today.

What was the best memory from your childhood?