School

I like Paris, not because it is one of the most attractive cities in the world. The reason for it is that Paris always has something to recall me of my home land. Probably it is because Iran’s culture has been influenced a lot by French culture in the last century.
This time, I am walking in a narrow street, Rue de Lohmond. Unexpectedly, I hear the voice of some children playing and exclaiming; joyful of their games. I realize that I am passing by a primary school. It tempts my curiosity and I try to climb the wall and have a look into the yard of school. I see happy children playing with ball and rope. It is so lively and loud. This uproar reminds me of my childhood and cheerful days of school.

School!! Upraor, naughtiness, excitement, anxiety of exams, smile of teachers, old friends and a lot of other things.
My holy place of childhood.
School, it means a lot to me.
School, the place where I have not thought about, for a long time. I miss those days of childhood, free of any concern playing and having fun. Nice days that after exam we were so much in love with the school that after the each final exam, we kept on staying at school instead of going home preparing for the next one.

Here is a picture of that school as a memorial of those fabulous days of school.