Just some moments are left before a new year sweeps away all used-up diaries and we start toasting and wishing. Not everyone is a lover of the holiday spirit, but I want to take some minutes and talk about two concepts that I think go hand in hand with these days: Home and Time. Every time I come back to my parents' house for the holidays is like time hasn't moved a bit after school days. Many of you can relate to that feeling: much-loved friends, family reunions, free time, and an old bedroom filled with memories. 18 years of existence crammed into a room, and such definitive years! And though puberty is a really important period in every human's life ("I'm not a child, I'm almost an adult" painful period) for me the thing that hits me most when I'm back home is my childhood years. It obviously is a glorified, selective assortment of memories possibly far from reality, but tell me: when has realism ever coincided peacefully in the same sentence with childhood?
Although my house is no longer the same as the one in my memories, the place remains the same. As the toys of my youth. I decided to bring them together for one more time. The forest has always been a love of mine growing up, though I cannot boast of ever conquering it. It still holds an almost magical character for me, a sanctity I'm never able to consume. So the place for the homage to my childhood companions was decided. The first choice of toys I wanted to capture was wide and I was not ready to accomplish such a mission, though I keep a window open for a future project where I'll be more meticulous and organised. My final decision was an array of plush toys. Some of these in the picture were acquired during puberty, but as a pact with my grown-up self I had put them away to mark my conversion to a serious adult (That effect never really manifested completely).
I grabbed my stuffed models, my camera and tripod and headed outside. And let my childhood nostalgia out in the wild.