I am going to a small provincial town where I was born and raised, spent my childhood and youth. It has its own way of life and traditions, and almost everyone knows each other. Time passes, but he does not change. The roads are getting a little decrepit, the houses are dilapidated, and everything else is the same as before. I guess I could walk the streets with my eyes closed.

I come here every year to visit my father's grave. Oddly enough, I do not feel nostalgia and reverence. Probably left the nest too early to miss these places.

From fast driving in the head clears. I do not...