In the corners of memory, childhood memories awaken like fireflies in the twilight. I become a child again when the sun caresses my skin with the same tenderness of my mother's comforting hugs. I remember how my siblings' laughter intertwined with the scent of wet earth after the rain, as we were gathered in our little house. The days were endless, and the world was reduced to the play block and the shade of the orange tree until they dried up and the last leaves fell. Scraped knees were trophies of intrepid adventures, and the world was reduced to the backyard where we built little stick houses on the ground, we rocked so freely on the swing set, we wanted to reach the sky, and at night we enjoyed making wishes every time we saw shooting stars. So I close my eyes and dive into that corner of my childhood, And hear the echo of laughter in the air. Nostalgia embraces me, and I long to go back to those days where everything was possible, where hugs healed wounds and dreams had no limits.