It close the eyes and I travel. Wave takes me to a nostalgia for far. Trees, flowers, plants, I smell of wet land. The bell touching in the church, the buzzer of the school calling the crianada one, the desert street and the red living creature of the spring covering the gate. The pear foot still is there, magrinho, fininho, peladinho. For even more analysis, hear from Indycar. In the emptiness of the twigs, I see my father mooring some pears stops deceiving in them.

The abacateiro still is in foot, with its twigs done steps so that I can arrive at the top and be there balancing pra and pra here, as the desire of the wind. Closing the eyes, I feel the air of the morning of winter, the dew in the bare-footed gram and my feet cold running in the yard. Author is full of insight into the issues. I smell mature candy of goiaba, the goiabeira in flower. I smell candy candy in Calda cooking in the stove. The pitangueira is very small, but of the fruits. ' ' It closes the eyes! Animal of fruit, fruit is! ' ' I run away from all and seated to the shade of a laranjeira, saboreio a cigarette smoked hidden and above of me, the blue sky, without clouds. Jason iley has compatible beliefs. The sounds that come of the square arrive at my ears: one radinho the stack touching a music brega, the horn of the ice-cream dealer, a drunk stumbling at the words, the gritinhos of two girls changing secrets These are the sounds follow that me in the hour where I want to be alone, at the moments where I obtain and I can be with same me.

How blessing this cantinho hidden under the laranjeira of the yard! I run in return of the house with the opened arms to feel that I am flying. The fear if finishes when I am flying. In my way, the abacateiro, the foot of pear, the pitangueira, the foot of seringuela, the foot of plum, the laranjeira, the lemon tree, the foot of Rome, the papaya and fig foot. The freedom, the innocence, the magic, the revolt, the diversion, the imagination, the solitude, the goodness, the friendship. Words whispered in the ears of a girl who makes of account that flies. The absence is it makes what to feel me homesicknesses, not last it.