Thrill, secrets and adventure in an ordinary neighbourhood – brown stone apartments. The back alleyway so narrow cars barely fit through but still do fit through. The cloudiness that opened up the whole sky touching the rooftop with its weather-worn decorated corners and peeling paint. The impressions. The patriotic passages written on the round coliseum of children’s playground attached to one of those apartment buildings. The bugs. The dogs and the cars, and three friends – the misty park with its reviving green among grey brown branches, and the shiny deep wet asphalt. Everything a treasure.. beauty in every ordinariness that is caught by the eye. Happily scanning the empty windows, curtained or blinded windows through which the warm light of the yellow lamps, TV, paintings on the wall and the dishes on shelves, and sometimes the very occupants, the protagonists themselves who are strangers yet nonetheless look so familiar and close somehow, are seen. The inquisitive eye. The mind that seeks a treasure in everything it absorbs through that eye – and the freshness, that old thrill, the child’s pleasure, ful-filling happiness, the calm wave of joy. Nostalgia about unknown things, things which never existed or happened and one never knew about or lived; nostalgia, about fantasy, and so pure just so.