I watched curiously the ants that were trying to escape from the flood to a plant's branch. They stood over the water level, forming a shape like a funnel, upside down by climbing one upon another's back. My father saw that, came near to me and explained the hard work and attitude of the ants.

My baby brain could not understand the true meaning of the words while he said, "We should watch and study the ants. We should try to live like them." But I shook my head in the sense of consent, as I understood everything. My father talks more about ants, maybe because of my cheerful response. Whether he was aware of it or not, my father was sowing the seeds of my first story in my tiny mind.