With a ticket of train in the hand I saw, me, surprise, numaestrada. I do not know as I arrived, neither because was there. Dream? Madness? It was surrounded of people of all types and all asidades. All spoke with me at the same time and also between itself. After a certain time and effort, I could concentrate noque said a couple to me that called me the attention. They repeated without stopping that, I to deviacontinuar walking, following in front, together with all those pessoasque, as I, had a ticket of train in the hand, where it was printed matter I number it 50, in the other hand, a small luggage.
thus I made. I was walking leaving and me to so involve for aquelasituao without explanation or intention. In a certain height of the road, I started to look at with maisateno, the things that it saw for the way. It saw, not only with the eyes, but with born umaclareza and sensitivity in the heart. Vi the flowers appeared in meucaminho and that never I touched, not even its perfume I inhaled. I remembered the times that wanted to wet I in rain and nofui, eque did not know to give value to the coolness of a rain of summer in one end detarde, ignoring the light and the heat of the sun in the cold mornings of winter. Much I complained of the dust raised for the wind, of the esedenta dry land, not considering that one same land, after rain, to iriacontinuar providing food and shelter to as many forms with life. the sea, as much force and beauty involving as many mysteries, tantavida. Raising the look, I could see the stars shining next to luafeiticeira, in a dark sky to put, generous, that radianteque yielded space for the sun time or another one, was hidden for clouds.
