I tread upon a carpet which feels way too familliar in such a distant place. I study the texture with my toes and the print with my eyes. Everything suddenly falls into place.
When I was only a small kid, I only had one decent toy car, which I had gotten from a relative living in the west at the time, which was the envy of all my friends. It was a lego garbagetruck.

I recognise the flowers which were the parkings and restarea's and the large diamond shaped figure in the middle which was the dumping ground. The large super highways of that universe coloured by red, deepgreen and lightblue trails encircle everything. The branches of the flowers take you from these trails to the parkings and other sceneries along the road.

This urge of getting hold of my toy and playing garbageman on that carpet can barely be contained. I remember the joy and those laughters which woke my aunts those long gone summer noons. I remember all the tears I shed upon that carpet everytime I was punished for doing something wrong or breaking something.

After almost 13 years I realised that nothing has changed and that I, in essence, am still that little kid who has misplaced his shiny garbagetruck.