My childhood memories look like stack of old photo. I sort it out sometimes and create my daily mood. The most frequent heroes on them my parents, grant parents, my cousin L. and other relatives. There are colourful and black and white photos. My memory selective, thus I don't remember a lot of details but their color will depend on whether I remember my emotions at that moment. For example, as a child, I spent summers with my grandparents. It was the happiest time. My neighbors and I ran around the stadium and played dodgeball, built headquarters and cooked mud soups that ate only toys. These memories are painted in white-yellow color and there is always a lot of greenery. When I think about it, I feel the warmth on my skin from the sun and hear the cozy sound of the radio in my grandmother's apartment. This is probably what happiness is. My black and white memories are taken from photographs. I don't remember it myself, I just remember how they were described to me when viewing the albums. My imaginary experience here is always colorless, but the emotions from these memories are no less than from those that I actually experienced at a conscious age.