Some children ran past me as I walked along Calle Escuderos de Segovia. I felt a sudden pang for the past when, as children, we were free and every corner of the city was ours. Our lack of awareness meant that we felt freedom as it should be felt, in its purest and most innocent form, a freedom that was clean and crisp, with no ties, free of responsibilities, right down to the soles of our shoes. Childhood is the homeland of men.