Each bank-note: a memory. Each memory lightened my wallet... I am kidding! Since I was a child, when my aunt, coming back from her trips used to bring me a bank-note, arranging it in my collection, I daydreamed about the country where that small piece of paper came from, who knows how many people used it, who knows what use was made of it, to pay some rice in Africa or some fruit in South America or a simple coffee in New York or maybe something more excting and mysterious, something illegal in some shady lane in Kuala Lumpur, who knows! Anyway now it was in a drawer of my desk next to many other like him from all over the world... maybe now each of them was telling his experiences to the others...