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Today, the banks of the Yaksunya are the blooming hills of childhood with myriads of abundant strawberries. Once upon a time, these mountain banks were owned by a beautiful, almost mythical Yaksunya - a short human memory of two or three generations only captures an echo of her name. How reliable and fair is our memory, both historical and personal? Is there anything more reliable in these hybrid times than a childhood memory... — this is one of several leitmotifs of the author's new poetry collection.