The hills out there formed a crocodile-at-rest sculpture of nature. They were 5 kilometers away but I could only feel the smell of rotten leaves.

As a child, I would be wandering through their valleys, sometimes covered in knee-deep snow and at other times paved with the charming smell of the woods. It was a mix of resin, flowers and a whole life ahead of you. From then on I've never felt it again.

I've been wandering my share of other woods, don't worry. I was always camping, wandering, yelling at wild animals, but it never was the same. I lost that feeling forever and the only thing that can somehow bring back the freshness is by writing these words, trying to engulf an entire golden age in a few black and white scribblings.