The Sculptor

The square of that small situated city in front of the church was in party, did not fit plus nobody. It was day saint, the people if they elbowed they crossed and it anxiously, waiting the beginning of the procession. In this exactly place in other occasions, the villagers heard the proclamations of the administrator of the city, imposing severe taxes to the inhabitants, who paid with much sacrifice, cursing old alcaide, represented for one decree from there fincada to few meters. He was sculptured in white granite, for a master I officiate of it come of the great city, that for the services, did not receive no paid one, what much annoyed to it and also cursed the solicitant, in the day that was even so. thus proceeded with other people not paying correctly to the renderings of services, being the deviated money of the safes of the community, for its recondite castle, not destining resources for other workmanships, that the people deserved, for the carried through sacrifices. The city was very aprazvel, the walls surrounded that it, in medieval style, exhibited in its interior, secular constructions that shaded the few side streets, bringing enchantments perfumed in the floreiras spread under the windows, where they made you its order, to the salesmen of fruits and vegetables, that were circulating in the side streets.

But the moment was special, therefore days before, arrived a message at proco, directed for the Mayor, saying to repass to its faithful in the sunday mass, that a very good thing would go to happen, and the news would be given, before the beginning of the procession. The rumor ran borders, bringing of this form, the sculptor for the city, in the hope to receive the payment for decrees, that she was so perfect, that some said, only lacked to speak. The priest already was impatient, a time that the herald of alcaide not yet had fond, to read in that bendito parchment, that contained the notice.

Finally Trip

For a few seconds, I think about not coming back to mine so strange and complicated world, where freedom is limited and treacherous, when suddenly, in my calm flight, I come back to observe of the high a present reality. to the times without wanting, diving in my distant past and I see myself ahead of the adventures of the life. When in my world, I did not have the happiness to find friends who if made use to travel with me, to share with my teeny adventures. Finally, I raise my wing in search of horizon, as they make the diverse viajores that follow me hours and hours in silence observing, me of far with respect. Without wanting, to the few I am invited to return of my true world. I do not feel courage to finish my trip and I limit myself to listen to my dear friends entoarem in one I only sing: ' ' friend does not go! He is more a little! We go to continue our trip! ' '. Awaken in silence ahead of all that order that go silencing to the few, making to return me to reality of this old world, where I dedicate myself solely to tell my trip to me, the most beautiful trip that I made to my true world, exactly knowing that it only exists inside of my proper one to be and that nobody never will be able to know it or conquest it Inside of me, some investigations go appearing when passing of the time: it will be that I will see still them? How will be daqui pra front, so distant of my friends? It would not be better to have forever been with them? Really, my prezado friend, is difficult to take a decision at a moment as this.