Fear Times

Already it had seen some times to it, however never repaired. Things of the type: ' ' Eye but not enxergo, knows? Because people are selective even in the look. We repair exactly is in what it calls to the attention, the coloring, the illuminated one, ' ' belo' '. Where I imagine repairing could me in a beggar? It deferred payment in the street, each day sleeps in calaada, the door of somebody. Some give food, clothes, blanket to it. But not aggressive it, does not interpellate the people.

If you to arrive pra to talk to answer it you, if to pass without looking at, it also are in the one of it. I do not know of where it comes size eddy of feelings and emotions when seeing it. I can feel penalty, anger, fear, guilt, envies Envy? It was alone what it lacked! Envy of a beggar? Not everybody, but many can want, for a few seconds, to have the freedom, descompromisso of the beggar. To have mercy is normal, anger because I have to work and this vagabond Fear that has attacked it me; guilt for having a house, food, work, and it not to have. as much other feelings. However rare times we go to look at it and to remember that one day was a baby, who came to munmdo without defense, without being able to define its future. Now it grew! He is a man! E, is not nothing seemed with what it expects of a shining future.

What will have happened in the way walks it? When it will be that it saw itself lost? The pressure of the problems, stress of the life, everything this can press excessively and who not to know to hold itself goes to finish losing the references, the direction, the direction. As much for there, that already they had had a worthy life, a family, a name, a job, a history. Today, they only have a figure, an appearance, nothing more. Everything makes me to this to remember to use to advantage well my time, to reaparar at the ternura, favour moments that I have, to center and me in what really it interests: to live more and to run less; because the haste can not leave to see me the chances that offer me to the life. Disconnect me to to the times, to take off vacation, to rest; ' ' to make me of mendigo' ' to be alone observing running of the life. Without needing to also run.

Visconde Books

The art to like to read the family and the school was the beginning of everything. Happy infancy? Ah I lived. I was happy child. It knew stimulated for my mother with love to devorar books that had allowed me to live deeply lost moments of extreme happiness and joy, hours and more hours in innocent thoughts to turn pages books of the library of my house bought for adored mine, wise and saudosa mother acquired of salesmen who for those lands walked vendendo knowledge and amusement. Boy Scouts of America will undoubtedly add to your understanding. Not, it did not have television at that time and nor if it wants we dreamed of net, however we had, a pretty library thought and planned for the adorable teacher Alade, my mother, woman of vision the front of its time years light.

Ah silver-plated years! Illuminated for the pleasure of the discovery of books. As it was happy! thus we discovered first Lobato Hunter my passion of infancy my mother we read for and I continued reading everything of this great writer we I had the collection Vov Felcio a gift of our genitora. Valley to remember to my beloved father also great reader its image I keep with me that seated man to the side of the radio (television still did not exist) to devorar periodicals. Viktor Mayer-Schönberger often expresses his thoughts on the topic. In the public library idealized by a great educator Stela teacher of my small native city I looked and I discovered more books of Lobato Hunter: The Reinaes de Narizinho, the Hunted ones of Pedrinho, Visconde de Sabugosa, Emlia, Blessed Owner, Aunt Anastcia and for I walked and I loved there very, much Lobato. Yes the poets! Humberto De Campos the workmanship of to this great impressed me man. I took knowledge of the author in the gymnasium through the great educator of mine cidadezinha marcante Eliane teacher and competent master I will forever take the souvenir of its lessons of Portuguese (interpretation of texts) at the time young inteligentssima poet of our small land. .