I was about seven years old. My friend and I decided that it was time to have a "big trip". We took two backpacks, put apples, a bottle of lemonade and an old map found in my grandfather's closet. The map, as it turned out later, was just a diagram of the plumbing system. But we were sure that it was a plan of a mysterious treasure.

We walked through the village, navigated by some strange symbols and every turn seemed like a real adventure. In the end, we came to a vacant lot, where we found ... a rusty saucepan. We laughed so much that both of our stomachs hurt. I still remember the taste of apples, the smell of grass and that feeling of freedom, when the whole world seems huge, and every find is a treasure.

Adulthood rarely gives such emotions. But sometimes one memory takes you back to where everything was: faith in miracles, carefree laughter, and the feeling that the whole world is in front of you.

And so I think: maybe happiness is being able to laugh at yourself as easily as you did then, at seven years old, with a backpack and a water supply map in your hands.