When I was younger (about 6 or 7 years old) my grandmother had a little farm, far way from the city and we used to go there every weekend. I remember sitting in the car and listen to my father’s old songs… I liked to look at the scenery through the car window. When it was day I watched the clouds and people, when it was night I watched the moon follow us. These were some of the happiest moments at that time. But no time was better than when we arrived at the farm, I jumped from the car and ran into my grandma`s arms. That little farm was the most beautiful place on earth to me. She used to live there very well alone but my grandmother began to get older and older, and we had to move her from that place. I still remember the big tree that was right next to the house, how I used to love that swing in its branch and how my grandfather always used to say I was flying so high I could fell the clouds.