1986
I'm lying on the lawn in front of our summer house, which didn't belong to us then, but to Grandpa Herbert, who left it to my mother after he died. He wasn't my real grandpa, but our neighbour, who asked me one day if I wanted to be his grandson. I remember that my mother had deep black hair. She had just turned 33, and at that moment, lying in the grass in front of the summer house that Grandpa Herbert would have left to my mother, I thought that I would spend an endless amount of time that summer.
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