Old photo of me and a Fractal Explorer fractal. *********************************************** (memory of my sanctuary) Child. 6 years old? 7 years old? 8 years old? The sun is shining. Soft and warm. Slowly, lost in thoughts the little girl walks into the fog. An island. Oasis of rest, peace, space. In the grass all kinds of precious gems are glittering. She sits down in her familiar place. Above her everything is bright blue. Below her a feast of colours. Green. White. Blue. Yellow. Orange. Red. Grass. Daisy. Clover. Buttercup. Dandelion. Poppy... Every month new gems. Only the grass... that remains. Behind her large green plants, a forest at the edge of the island. Today a lot of daisies are smiling. Cautiously she gathers a bunch. The stalks must be as long as possible. She twines a wreath. This is placed as a crown between the white-blonde ringlets. A smile. Maybe...? She stands up and walks to a distant area. A little magical mountain. Maybe... ? Luck ! Between some piles of earth and grass, an unknown red flower is growing and blooming. Cautiously she accepts this precious little gift. She sits down in her familiar place. She takes the wreath from her head. Satisfied she entwines the splendid new jewel. The crown jewel. She stands up.. A little princess now. A crown with a crown jewel. Slowly she walks back into the fog to where she had come from... ************************************************** . . 11 years old? 12 years old? 13 years old? Slowly the girl walks to the field. Bicycle in hand. Neglected meadow. Clouds floating slowly through the grey air. It is on the verge of raining. Streets. Cars. Houses. Blocks of flats. The place where the girl once sat...Grass... still there. Here and there a dandelion. A corner filled with nettles. In another corner a pile of garden waste. Thrown away by local residents. The rest a trampled down soccer field.... Coming to think of it... she has always known it was this way... Eyes are older now... ***************** 17 years old? 18 years old? 19 years old? A young woman. Cycling. A chilly wind. Watery sun. Streets. Cars. Houses. Blocks of flats. The streets seem to be more grey. The cars more numerous. The houses smaller. The blocks of flats less high. The part of the meadow where the sun always shone and where jewels abounded .... paved with stones. A street market instead of the magical mountain and the large fog field. What once was, never more will be. Eyes are older now... Or maybe not... ? Images never forgotten. Images created with the eyes of a child. The child inside me... Like a Matryoshka. (Russian nested doll) Love, Titia