Hometown guy so poor that day. Each child like him, barefoot all normal. But winter, cold weather, we had to sandals if not swollen feet due to freight claim. But that day, which is nice sandals. Did strap sandals off the muzzle, which slid to one, both feet running well up front, but still going. Que poor guy should not kids be kids clothes. Winter, the kids would wear pants to school, even when at home, to warm. Many kids of the guy wearing the jacket, to 5, 7 which still huddling cold, huddled shivering ...

The guy is a bit more decent. He does not go off sandals straps, open muzzle out. Winter that year he also bought her a new sweater. Mother of guys do not like playing in the dirt with him to the neighborhood kids. But he ignored. Because they have a lot of games and, despite the cold weather maternal guy screaming, afraid of dirty clothes, not washing.

Kids in the neighborhood there are a lot of guys play. Or that most games come out kite flying field near the ground and then put up to the oven, heating fires. Winter wheat harvest is finished at last, only stubble fields. But here is where the kids like best. A stove is lit, smoke um a whole bunch of corners and flaming sitting gathered together, at the top kite aloft.

Kids sitting together, telling stories dream tomorrow ...

The child is told that, I want to make her teacher, children are told that the police wanted to do, to go catch bandits, protecting people, kids will say the same as to create more grain. So it's always a shortage of rice to eat. He had no concept of dreams. He just liked watching the sky and dream of strange places. Somewhere unprecedented, something strange, unknown is always in one's thinking of him. However, little guy when it comes to this with his friends.

Time passed, the children grew up that day, each of them a place. Just like what kids dream about. Halloween kids do you guys police district, the village children as a teacher, kids on days associated with gardens, fish ponds, bunds ... Most of them are living around the fields around near her childhood. Only men go forever, but seeing sales go back to the smell of smoke, and fire on the crowd you ... Because he was only away from her home as what he was thinking, as he sat listening to his friends talk about dream ...

Then, one winter morning, he dreamed of his return, went on a dirt road between fields. He walked slowly, inhaling the smoke smells like childhood straw, watching the lonely village but calm, serene. But then the ear, he suddenly heard a car horn racket, said the rush hour - the movement a big city guy wakes up.

Sitting myself out for a while, he will find love again, her eyes stung for a dream winter sunny midday.