Did you ever have memories from your distant past, that only recently you realised were nasty and unpleasant, masquerading into trappings of innocent childhood. ... A light and empty room greeted me upon my arrival to our new home. Driven by my parents commotions we just have moved half across the country, to replace a miniature room in a crowded city with this spacious and luminous appartment. There was very little furniture so that sounds and voices reverberated freely from the walls and the ceiling, making our new place even more mysterious. I was six years young, and my fresh, uncluttered synapses were easily amused. Everything around me was just spectacular like in a little personal theater: bags, suitcases scattered around the floor, a big wide window without blinds and wind behind it howling some sad and beautiful melody. Adjoining room was a bit darker and had a balcony overlooking the courtyard below, which I could see through an opening in the railing. I hastily ran towards promising something down the endless stairs, through the doorway, into the entrance hall, out of the building, around the red brick corner. A playground appeared with a sandbox filled with yellow sand. Later I found out that it was yellow from cats piss. It was vacant then, but just in a short distance away, on a hill across the road, there were two playing children, a boy and a girl, beautiful and angelic in my magical vision. The boy was busy picking a handful of wild flowers, and a girl already had some of the flower adorning her hair. I approach them with thoughts of what I should say to join their play. The girl picked up a not so small piece of rock from the ground and threw it right into my face. As it struck my forehead me, she started to laugh and I started crying. Magical vision have been broken to pieces. And that is the first moment when I started growing up. Do we grow up with pain? ---- memory-sergeon slices and dices to fast forward through some 20 years ---- A phone call... I could not believe how familiar was his voice. Sounds from distant past, red bricks, yellow sand, two playing children. One of them was on the other end of a line (Me) - Yes, I am from the same town. What? Same yard? We grew up together, did we? Sorry, can't remember. Could you call me sometime later? I am kind of busy right now. Maybe, after work, or better tomorrow, OK? Good luck, bye! I felt like a bastard, because the guy was from the same town, looking for a support in this big city, so foreign and alien for him. At the same time I honestly did not want to remember my first pain, probably most excruciating one in my entire life. And however curious I am about whatever happened to that girl from the playground, I am glad we've never met. So... forget childhood.