It's a bird... it's a plane... it's a hero...

I was just a little kid back then. That very day, my mother came from the office, a beaming smile upon her face, pulled out a video cassette from her bag and turned on the TV.

Fast forward two hours, and I believed a man could fly.

I took a sheet from the laundry box and I climbed on the dinner table. I tied the cloth around my neck and I jumped, with my right arm pointed forward and my left pressed against the chest.

I flew for about a nanosecond, and I fell. Head first.

But I didn't cry, because I knew that he would never shed a tear. Because I believed that I was Superman.

The man I saw on the screen was soaring like a bird in the middle of a skycrapers jungle, he moved gracefully between the buildings for the sole purpose of making the world a better place. He was my first idol. My first hero. My inspiration.

Fast forward 22 years, I still believe that a man could fly.

Not physically, but eventually I could let my imagination soar in the middle of concrete mindscape. And he made me realize that a man could do anything by the force of will...

Mr. Reeve, I am grateful for the belief you've indirectly put into me, for your determination to live no matter how hard life is, for the inspirations you've spread all over the world.

Goodbye, Supes. I know you're soaring with the angel in the sky, with your arms pointed forward.

I promise I'll look up to the sky from time to time.