I remember when I was a little boy. I remember waking up, probably early in the morning, and arriving to the living. There, one of my parents was already sipping a coffee. He looked at me, and asked me what I wanted to do. I don’t remember the conversation, only that I used to end up watching something, while he was fixing the house around. It was a happy time. I probably didn’t know even where we were. But I didn’t care, since Trippi, and the other virtual puppets, were there, floating around me, to teach me how to survive in the world. Do not speak with strangers online. Do not trust what you find in the net. Do not stay so long connected. That was my mantra of that days. Over all, I remember the fun. Absolute fun. Not like now. The memories make me feel numb, hard as a rock, or more like an ice sculpture, apparently solid but easily melting in the right conditions. Appearance can be deceiving. Like my parents. I thought they will always be there. But they left me, at one point. And now I have only memories of them. Memories of another time, easier, simpler, where it was possible to be filled by small wonders, like a trip on the tube, or a toast shared with my father. I didn’t want to get old, those days. But the clock ticks for everybody, at least at the beginning.