sometimes a strange feeling closely connected to some kind of taste, smell, sound of music or even some postures of the body. Sometimes the feeling of past in the sour taste of lemon pie threw him away into the past reminding him the shop near his house where he had bought sweets. With two coins squeezed in his pocket, he climbed into the large wooden door of the store. The house where the shop was has been ruined ten years later, deleting some part of the city`s memories. But maybe walking together with his grandma through the city he often felt she could not remember the street they lived, and for sure he had the same strange taste of pity. But he could not catch it, feeling that experience of past returned with the greater force, he had no weapon. At the time they came nobody had the weapon to resist. Quickly overthrown places of freedom: squares, universities, well, even homes. The existence of violence was given. But this lost also had it's own taste. In the morning rushinig out to work breathing out warm air in the freezing cold he felt it in his mouth. Setting his teeth on edge till crunch the taste of a new freedom reminded him a bitter-sour taste in his mouth and he nervously bitted his lips without noticing that. Hopping the bus, he took from his pocket one saved ticket. The radio said: "We are headed to a happy future about which we all dreamed so much!". Well, well, well. But who has dreamed insead of them now and did he ever dreamed on his own? He could not find more of his dreams and separate them from the collective. He could not remember who told him that it was his dream to pull out someone else's teeth intimidating their own horrors.
He looked around, people in the bus with unhappy faces right now seemed to be the same as he is. He always thought he is special, he thought he feels differently. He slowly got off on his stop and flooded with the crowd towards the subway. Passing by he suddenly felt a familiar smell, it was definitely it, and it was real.
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