When children sit down and start to dream,
they enter in a mysterious world;
you feel a little sad since you,
in that world,
are not more allowed to access to.

A land that much time ago also you knew,
in which you saw more colours and perceived shadings now become one-colour paints;
in which you could listen the silence,
and where everything had its smell.
Where the burning sun was the shadow of a big tree,
the rain an occasion to quench your thirst,
the snow the nicest gift.

Sometimes, when you feel alone,
you attempt to force the doors of this world,
but in vain.
Then you sit down,
being satisfied to look at it through the dreaming eyes of a child...

and you feel a little less sad.