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the universe inside each person, the thousands of facets that are hidden in each gesture, thought, second... so many lives existing concomitantly in one, our theater of joy and horrors could only happen in this polymorphic world, full of nuances and configurations antagonistic, the ice of the poles and the heat of the tropics, the bucolic plains and the rough seas...

near the clinic where my aunt died, there was a ravine, tearing up the earth, people came looking for semi-precious stones placed on the slopes, they tried to climb the earth walls, but the lack of bushes did not allow, so they collected the smaller stones and not so bright but I, a bustling boy, I have the desire for the impossible warming my veins and I jump and grab the most beautiful of stones in the recess of the dry clay, today it is washed, cut and decorated on the wooden sideboard the room that soon welcome the people who will come to my birthday party, it's been nine years walking around this poor neighborhood in my blue shorts, i have marble eyes and my father uses difficult words, you know how it is, he lives dying inside his books, my mother's hand was running through his hair and he was always far away, I think he lives in another dimension, he says that this world belongs to him but he is poor, I wish I had these beautiful advertising bikes, the video games, but soon it's mine birthday, my mom says we're out of money, she needs to prepare the party but we barely have money for the electricity bill, I don't understand anything about humiliation and that word she uses, the humiliation thing, I don't think even my father knows exactly what which it is, but it doesn't matter because when I hear what he says it's always like a dream to me, the words that don't hurt come out of his mouth warm and I understand what he means by antipodes when he talks about my mother, when she talking about him the words come out dry and yes they actually hurt me too.
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