The sun, breaking through the light clouds, painted the meadow in golden shades. The air was filled with the aroma of blooming chamomile, clover and wild poppies. On the slope of a hill covered with green grass, sat a girl with a basket in her hands. She moved along the meadow, collecting bright poppies and modest daisies. The girl hummed a melody that she had recently heard on the radio. Suddenly, she heard the rustling of leaves behind her. Turning around, she saw a guy who was also holding a basket and looking at her with a smile.

—"Excuse me," he began, "can I help you? I noticed that you were looking for poppies. I know a place where there are a lot of them."