My father was a firefighter. I was seeing him at home tired and smelled of smoke after each shift. The smell of smoke is one of those you can not erase not only from yout skin, but mind. It is sealed in your mind on the same way how you can recognize the scent of people you love. After work, he set on the couch, hugged me and I interviewed him about the difficulties he encountered, but he never talked about them. He spoke about the rescued people and each time he told me that heroism is not measured in difficulties you overcome, but human lives you saved. Still there, on the couch, I decided I wanted to be a firefighter and to become a hero – same as my Dad.