I once had a friend named Gosha. He lived on our balcony with one leg bound to the railing. Most of the time he walked around with his other leg thinking much of himself, but every time I brought him a handful of large corn, he got very excited and unimportantly humble. He was generally a friendly chap, I brought him a towel when it snowed and I was hugging him sometimes when my parent’s weren’t watching. When the first snowdrops came out my mom prepared a birthday dinner for me: we had a delicious goose-ragout, my favorite salad and a cake. After, when I secretly wanted to share some of my dinner with Gosha I found only the red string from his leg hanging sadly from the balcony’s rail. My mom explained that winter was over and Gosha has finally gotten free. That night I realized how FREEDOM tasted.