When I was eight years old, I found the Lost river. Nobody knew where it was, nobody could tell me how to get there, but everybody was talking about it.
When one day I passed by the Lost river, in that moment I knew where I was. You just know you found it. It was the most beautiful place, I have ever seen - trees hanging low near the water, marvelous fish swimming inside! I walked by the river streak, the warm feeling of sunlight on my body. I thought I was in paradise.
I spent my entire afternoon there, and when I decided to head back home I left signs, so I can come here again.
- Father, I found the Lost river - I yelled as soon as I walked into the house.
My father looked at me and he knew I wasn't lying. He brushed my hair gently and said:
- I was your age, when I first saw it. But I couldn't ever go back.
- No, no - I interrupted him, - I left signs on the road, so we can go there together.
On the next day, when I wanted to back to the river, I couldn't find the signs I left - the river was gone. The memory was all that was left of it.
One autumn afternoon, two years later, we headed to the blacksmith of Aden, where my father was supposed to look for a job. We went into the shop and talked with the Head blacksmith Ferris.
In the main room, while my father was talking with the Ferris, I saw a large map on the wall, which detailed every mountain, town and river. I looked at the map, trying to find the Lost river, so I can show my father. I looked and looked, but couldn't find it.
Head blacksmith Ferris saw me examining the map carefully.
- What are you looking for lass? - he asked.
- The Lost river - I said, with undying hope.
- Such a place doesn't exist - responded the blacksmith.
- What do you mean it doesn't exist? I swam there.
- You swam in the Red river.
- No, I swam in both of them and I know they are two different rivers.
- This place doesn't exist - insisted the blacksmith.
In this moment I looked at my father, pulled him by the sleeve and asked him:
- Dad, please tell him, that the Lost river exist.
- Look, lass - said Ferris - this great nation depends on this map and it's accuracy. Every thing that exists and is not listed on this map would pose a threat for the safety of our country. So if this map says it doesn't exist, that means it's not there.
I kept pulling my father's sleeve.
- Dad, please tell him.. - I begged.
My father really needed this job, so he lowered his head and said:
- No, sweety, this man is a specialist. If he says it doesn't exist...
That's how I learned something important: you have to be careful with "specialists". If you swam somewhere, if your body got wet in some river, if the sun shined upon you on the shores, don't let any specialist tell you it wasn't real. Trust in your own feelings, because they will never betray you.