The little things. They have always meant more to me than everything else in this world. Sometimes they have been the only real thing and they have made me smile every day. But at one point you realize that not all of them are in their proper places. For one reason or another one part of them have disappeared and on their place there’s nothing more than noise and memories, nothing else.
I know people like me, although they are little. People of the little things, that find beauty in how little children play in the playground, or in old people holding their hands, as if they were young again, or when a mother cries of joy and happiness when she sees her newborn child. I don’t know if they realize how happy they are. The others are just too blind to see things like that and that’s the reason their lives are more grey and ours. Yesterday for an hour and a half I watched a little girl in park collecting flowers to make a crown. I was just sitting there and watching, without her noticing. For some people that may sound pervert but not to me. How simple are little children’s’ dreams, I wish I was one now…
Is that so selfish – wanting the little things in life for me? When they’re my only joy, I think not.. A touch on the hand, a look, a smile, warmth, a hug… How cliché would this sound to a person who doesn’t understand. But not to me. The little things, they are my everything.

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