Dimme cu chi vaje e te dico chi sî

You become the people you spend time with.

Childhood memories and lasting bonds

I found a photo from fifth grade. There were twenty-two of us in front of the school, in our smocks. I recognized everyone, and I noticed that the three I’ve stayed friends with were already in the same row back then, one next to the other, with the same face. The others were scattered around. I turned the photo over and on the back my mother had written the date in pen, and under it the teacher’s name.