When I was a six-year-old girl, I used to go to nursery class with my mum.
Nearly every afternoon on the way back to home we used to do the shopping.
There was a supermarket -which was counted as a big one- with an entresol.
Even if we did not need to get something from the entresol I always made my mum take me there.
Being there, was a kind of magic for me.
But there was something more glamorous: Milk boxes!
I was (was? still I am!) fascinated by them; buying the milk, taking it home, try to open the box -course with help-...
It was all a ceremony.
Years passed as usual and I realized that there were no milk boxes like I love.
They were all unlovable rectangular prisms. So it became a broken dream for me.
After 15 years some clever guy -I guess- brought them back. Now it's not hard to find my lovely.
But in those sad days my friend Deniquo made a milk box brooch for me.
Now I have a child's dream in my hands and it's the most fascinating of all.