Watching my kids improving each day and making progress, I want the same. Am I too old to do this? Is it the end of my productive age knocking on my door, so is it no use trying? Even there is no time, no teacher, no afternoon club where to go with a clear head.

*Can I make a stand on my head? *Can I play on a guitar or on a piano the songs I love? *Can I learn to cook deliciously? *Can I learn to draw whatever I have on my mind? *Can I speak the languages I love to hear and use?

When I was a child, I did desperately want to play the piano. With my mother´s words: "We won´t suffer the teacher... I gave up any official attempts. But these days, while dancing around the children, I feel more absorbed by the wide land of music. And luckily for me, the new technologies can help a lot, and they do not suffer at all!

It is just great I do what myself, and I have always wanted whole my life, never mind it is 5 or 10 minutes of concentration. I am learning day by day a little bit more and improving and shouting and searching for my voice.

The routine and every day little steps cherish me. The simple way of making progress in whatever I do seems to be the guiding light in my selfish part of the world. In my selfish world full of joy, and nobody can steal it.

In the same way, I am driven to listen to French radio while I travel in the car, but every other passenger hates me for this. And the Italian language? It drives me crazy. When I am in Italy, I am eager to listen and speak with everyone about everything. The stupid thing is that I quickly lose my place in the conversation because I do understand every third world. Still, I can look involved. I am awkward, I know, but I don´t mind it. At the other corner, I go and start chatting again!

I do love the speed of talking, the sound of Italian words, and the smooth linkup they are making the sentence.

With each language, I enter other dimensions of reality, with different meanings of the same. So it makes sense for me to have books of Italian conversation either on the toilet and to learn each year again and again (because it is never ever used) to order scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, and where exactly the car has a defect. What is this good for? Just born and buried at the toilet.

The only good thing is the joy that is underneath. And I love to share the thought of staying passionate about learning other languages and improving in general, that can make our days infinitely better.

Make a joy of every day improving!