The earliest memory that I possess regarding my childhood is me polishing my nails. For some reason, it was not opposed by my parents who probably thought that it was a childish caprice on my part. Yet, I somehow remember that my father took me out while I still had that polish on my tiny nails and visiting the studio of his actor friend who was really famous in Ponderland during 70s. The caption I have from that visit is me sitting on my dad's lap and the guy telling me something about my nails. I really can't make out what is it, though.