The town from the past.

I had always had that feeling as I had recollections from the past… That feeling of miracle. I remember how I then thought of that place. I was always looking forward to come back and spend more time. I always felt that it was not enough. I reckon  if I even had eternity at that time it would not be anyway enough. I liked to sit on the back seat of the taxi and to look out of the window on glimpsing views which changed one another so quickly that I was scared to miss something and tried not to blink. I wished the journey had lasted longer than 15 minutes.I loved absolutely everything:  streets which seemed to me different, people who seemed to be so happy , but the main thing was, of course, the flat.  I remember that little flat, especially my room with red wallpapers, huge wooden table, a bed covered with blue coverled, white wardrobe in the corner and an enormous-sized window with fair curtains. The view from the window at that time seemed so stunning: huge branches of old trees with bright green leaves leaned to the window and made it impossible to see the end of the street that was leading to my school. My old school with white walls and vinous windowframes.  But now, as i grew up, everything changed. My recollections from childhood are fading away year by year. The room that used to be mine is just an ordinary room. All I feel is that I am not that little girl anymore. I look at the room, but I do not see what I saw not so many years ago. I walk in the same streets but I am not fascinated anymore. All I see is a small town where I know, I was born, which, I remember, I left. I am sure I would not suffer if I  never happened to visit it again. There is neither miracle nor emotional addiction anymore. 

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