My grandmother had posted on her bedside table a few small vials, which were interpreted to me as extremely mysterious: because I could not read- i only know, that what I considered rightly as letters, contained many "0"and that the name on a bottle started with the same letter, which graced the whole family dishes (a "P") and consequently belonged somehow to grandma and therefore had to belong to me as well. Grandma taught me that the name was a mystery- as in the Rumpelstielzchen fairy tale- back at that time my thoughts about this fairy tale were pretty intense- and that this secret didn't need to be touched, eaten up or be pronounced, which totally made sense to me. ( By the way, from today's perspective a good and imaginative, childlike comprehensible pedagogy)
But there was a head, an image on each bottle. I really wanted to know who that would be- whoever belongs to us (only because of the " P"). I do not remember whether Grandma told me or not. All I know is that I didn't find out, or simply had forgotten, because a few years later I discovered tons of these bottles in a pharmacy, went in and asked who was the man on the vials.
I didn't get an answer, it only caused an absurd amusement- after all i was already seven years old and concluded then, that the " P" and the vials were not about me...., and i decided to become more reasonable .
This chapter of my childhood fell thoroughly into oblivion.