Sometimes coming home is exactly what I need. Don’t get this the wrong way, I love Vienna, but as much as I love it, I also love getting away from it, especially when it’s got about 30 degrees in the city. There are moments where my appreciation for a private garden and just being surrounded by nature and my family could not be exceeded by anything. Coming home sometimes feels like going on a holiday to a different country. The friendliness of the people and the non existant privacy might be seemingly unfamiliar at the start but very nice once used to. Actually knowing the people who live in your house and in your neighbourhood is an advantage that not everyone has and I fully appreciate it. It is a nice feeling to know that your neighbours are happy to see you when you’re back, especially because they have played an important role in your childhood. That’s another thing that I love about coming home. It’s the memories you have about when you were little, but the continuing traditions that make your memories come back to life. When at home, I sometimes have this strange feeling of seeing my younger, blonde me run around on the playground. I remember the long summer nights we stayed outside playing hide and seek and my mum would yell out the window asking for me to come home and I would beg her to stay a little bit longer, even though I was exhausted from playing with my friends all day long. I remember the long summer nights, the bonfire we had to celebrate the solstice, the innocent times. We’d sit next to the fire and watch the huge pile of branches burn until there was nothing left but embers. It is even nicer to see that these traditions you had ten years back still exist today. I would like to thank my neighbours and their friends for bringing up all those great memories of my childhood. Thank you for organizing a great traditional solstice fire (if that word even exists)!