January 13, 1991

30 years ago, my Dad taught me what freedom meant.

I remember little of that Sunday. But I can imagine it to the minute detail — the story, repeated by Mum every year, gradually changing like a Lithuanian fairy tale, is my favourite. Dad left, probably on one of those buses that transported thousands of people from every corner of the country. What took place inside the Parliament has remained a mystery to me, mixed with fragments of stories I once heard, black-and-white snippets from patriotic films, portraits hanging on the walls at school, and my imagination in which heroic Lithuanians withstand the onslaught of an evil enemy.

Bookworm (but I sometimes go on real adventures) · Obsessive thinker · Inconsistent writer · “You live and learn. At any rate, you live.” — Douglas Adams