Today afternoon, I was sitting in my room and doing maths. I was just at the logarithms when CD player played a song called "Homesick" by The Cure. Suddenly, the maths book disappears before my eyes, and I become small boy sitting by the window in the right wing of Grandpa's house's loft, while Grandpa was doing some fixations in the central room of the attic that smelled like brick and stucco. Around me there were some old shelves, dusty lamps and jars, and other diverse lumber. It's September outside and all the green of a late summer was freshly morning-rained. It's Sunday, about 8 am, and Grandma, Grandpa and me were just arrived from the church. Granny was doing final packing of bagfuls into snow-white "Moskwitch" of my Grandpa's. We are going to Jerinje. It's a birthplace of my Grandpa's father...

Oh, the vision is gone! The maths book is back! But the music is still there, and the ray of that superb feeling of security and improvidence in me, the feeling that I only felt as a kid, and once more - in Switzerland.