Memories from "the field"

Growing up in a one of a kind city, I was lucky not only to have an amazing museum next to our neighborhood, but also the opportunity to encounter nature on a daily basis. About ten minutes from our house there was an area that my siblings and I used to call "the field". It was a naturally preserved territory between the city's neighborhoods. That was a place of freedom and adventure, exploring and dreaming. There were rocks we could climb on and jump from, little ponds to skip stones on, and bushes to hide behind. Since my mother was calm and didn’t worry too much about the weather in each season we could re-meet insects, snails and snakes, pick, smell and sometimes even eat seasonal plants. After a walk in "the field" we usually came home with thorns in our palms and dust covering our clothes or mud on our boots, caring sticks that we kept using as swords and magic wands.

When I got older I nearly stop going there though I do remember a few time I went to "the field" with a book to study for the highs school final exams (that how it was the place I read the novel Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky for the first time).

"The field" is gone now. A new neighborhood was built upon it and only a few rocks were left there. But sometimes you can still see brave plants keep popping up, reminding me of my childhood and the changing seasons. My daughter loves these plants and I'm Happy to let her touch and taste them like I used. She also comes home carrying sticks and happily exploring the snails and ladybugs the come to visit. Some things do stay the same through the unbelievable changes around us.

Above is the piece I made lately for the MATS Bootcamp based on my memories from "the field".

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