Parental home. A pleasant warmth radiates from all sides, a light breeze gently ruffles the hair, and the scent of ripe apples fills the air. From the window on the second floor, one can observe the measured, carefree life in the village. Peace reigns in this place, the soul rests. The apples, weighing down the branches of the tree, glisten enticingly in the sun. Nature beckons us to step outside, to feel the soft grass underfoot, to taste its fruits, and to converse with the wind.