• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 02


She traveled Didn't take any luggage Not even memories I believe it will never come back My empty heart, just filled with longing, sings the song of those who stayed His aged face revealed the feeling of someone who knows he is going to leave Now I immerse myself in her image, I look absently at her body broken by work, the routine, the zeal in leaving the house clean, fragrant and with everything in place Its story began in a small town wooden house Since he was 10 years old, he started to take care of of his younger brothers When I was 13 years old, it was already seven Your eyes tell this story They shine because they are bathed in innocence and care She left without time say goodbye; returned to its heavenly origin At age 10, he carried a bucket of water from the well to the kitchen where his mother made bread, cookies, sweets that he packed in glass cups She left the little ones in their care earn money for the next meal, pay water and electricity bills From a young age, she learned to be a mother I remember now the image of your hands cared for nails, which she enamelled But I could see it in the tracks and calluses of his open hands, a heroine biography Skinny hands, victims of precocious and necessary work these hands, on cold winter nights they touched my hair, glided across my eyes, welcomed my face with its warmth Those hands that planted flowers in the garden, that drew flowers and butterflies in jars and bottles of their handicrafts On the walls your drawings of oil painted sunflowers They are memories of a woman I met when I was alone in a strange city He approached me and unstuck me from my stubborn solitude It's been more than twenty years learning to live with this princess with worn hands where I put a wedding ring, then a gold bracelet on her left wrist we live years of joy, also sharing conflicts, flavors and knowledge His hands, the masters of his humble but profoundly meaningful existence, always moving between the shining house and the flowering garden It took two years of struggle to defeat an enemy that spread throughout his body beat them like a warrior 2



He came back to life and the best memories were when we walked by the sea, barefoot, collecting shells that the sea threw from its waves; how many sunsets we gaze at the sea, as if we were going to bathe in its dazzling rays; most late the moon by the sea, even in the company of stray dogs who liked to run on the beach But the enemy returned without asking permission There were months of new fights until their hands grew pale and could no longer draw, color their vases of flowers She took leave of me and the world with the touch of her growing