I had a cherished dream - to see myself little.

For example, at five years old. Chubby, a toddler, with straw-colored hair bleached by the southern sun. I loved talking to caterpillars. I asked them questions and patiently waited for answers. The caterpillars curled up or crawled away. Silent.

I wanted to see myself at ten years old. Funny, angular, timid. With long, thin braids down my shoulders. Dad bought a record player, and we listened to fairy tales all day long. We would put a vinyl record on a stand, press a special button; holding our breath, we would lower the membrane with a careful movement. And we would listen, listen, listen.

I wanted to see myself little so much that one day I decided to write a book about my childhood. About my family and our friends. About relatives and loved ones. About the city where I was born. About the people who live there.