10 Mar 2015 | From Heike of Germany
When I was younger, I remember going to our backyard and garden looking for some odd-shaped leaves or just any leaf I fancy. I would press them between the pages of a book and let them dry up. I oftentimes use them as bookmarks or to decorate my books - or I would forget about them and then see them again when I flip open the same book after months, or even years. Almost all of my books back then has a leaf within its pages. Somehow I was convinced back then that a precious memory is stored in those old, dried leaves. A happy memory, a sad memory. But nonetheless all memories are special.