*
All this time I have not removed the eyes and from my dream away, / from my home near the river, / from my childhood near the river, / the windows of my room which overlooked the river at night ...FERNANDO PESSOA
Some things that mark the time and which serve to furnish the interior landscape I consider the voice of my father the most important. They made me believe in all these years that the father is absent, which delegates to the mother in raising children, which is always tired and who does not speak when he should speak ...
Explain yourself, then, how it is possible that there is in me, I hear his voice resound in me as an order of heaven! Not a command, but a still speak that digs into the very end. If I had to decide on the larger question, whether I am alone or if my life is heated by indestructible values, I would not hesitate to say that a fixed point in the middle of the drift of time, there is no doubt. E 'Unbreakable him to me.
A French writer wrote years ago on a literary magazine, in an essay dedicated to the Sacred: "The Holy Father was the hat hanging in the wardrobe at home. .. ". Even his take on objects in my eyes an important meaning and value.
His words are few or no strength. On the contrary, I look forward to the surprise and secrecy. "What do I say?"
expectations that life holds for us every day and puts forward as evidence, there is this expectation. Of his voice. You could say that the love 'passes' between a boy and his father is all in this secret mate.
He knows me. I feel it. It 'like someone who does not need to say now all he has to say. He knows he can talk to me anytime. When the noise ceased. When the voices of life and the endless chatter ceases, then approached me. Nobody notices these simple gestures of the heart. Absent him?
The strength that gives me one of her gestures is enough to make me walk for weeks and months later. Perhaps he is placating the old leaven that is in me. He soothes and calms the beating of the heart in turmoil. Initially, he is to create trouble, but soon broke up the lumps of pain that the weather settles in the soul, not just turns to me and sees me, just me.
are not indifferent to any of his gestures. Everything is precious and rare. When he wants to know about me is shy and unsociable. He also has to get out of a shell very hard. I have often wondered where it came from my invincible shyness, but I already knew. I also rebelled against the life, when it seemed to be like him, I did not like him precisely what troubles me more. But today I see more clearly into things. Also an element of 'weakness' can be transformed into virtue. E 'was named life dodges this intense way to exist.
*
