Being a father. Taking care, protecting, loving, listening, collecting stones into your pocket, painting with a lipstick on mirrors, covering puddles with sand, bursting balloons, burying butterflies in matchboxes. One day my father got tired of all of this and he went after the wandering lights into the dark forest. Many men of our tribe did this before him. Some of them stayed in this forest forever. We shout into the forest and call him back. Sometimes he comes out to us and talks about the animals he met there. Some are good animals but most are evil and ferocious predators. As a child I was surrounded only by good animals, to whom I trusted my secrets. Most of all I loved the red bear and the yellow monkey. They were my best friends and protected me from the nightmares. Only the monkey survived until the day, when I became a father myself. She hasn’t changed a bit, only has lost her funny hat. The birth of my daughters changed my usual life. The world suddenly changed. But from the window is still visible the ominous forest, where there is the one whom I need. And I believe that one day he comes back and understands how bright and wonderful the world is.