I remember very well the day there was no school.
I was seven. I had always been one of those kids who liked school very much, with its tall buildings and tall adults that I admired from my tiny desk below. I liked the smell of ink and paper, and the wooden scent of pencil sharpenings even more. I don’t recall my first day at school, or my last one, or many in between, really. But I know I liked school very much - therefore I was always ready to go by the time my father woke up. A bow on my head, a dotted dress, a frown upon on my face and a handbag full of books I would probably not even need. The bag and its weight, particularly, mad