It was summer, 1970. One of those open air music festivals.

I walk between hundreds of people sitting on the grass. Couples kissing and hugging each other, young people playing the guitar. Most of them drink or smoke. Freedom spreads everywhere. You think you can be anyone.

The wind gently touches my long hair and a white sundress. I am barefoot; I left my sneakers somewhere, I don't know where. Next to the river, probably, I had swum there. I see the beautiful daisies so I bend over to pick them. For what? I want to make a coronet and put it on my hair.

As I'm finished, I  can see a long-haired man who walks towards me. He grins, gives me a beer and asks for joining his friends. Also, I smile, then nod. Yes, I'd love to!

I sit with the group of friends, some of them play the guitar, Led Zeppelin songs, I can hear. The others sing, laugh or just lie on the grass. We talk about everything and nothing. About our lives, plans, decisions or dreams...

I look at the stage in the distance. Jam sessions are what I like the most. I think you can feel all hidden pieces of artist's soul. Every single thought, emotion.

It was summer, 1970. I felt like I could do anything.