Para mim, cada dia vivido,cada respirada,cada batimento cardíaco,cada gole de água consumido,entre outros, é a prova de que Deus nos suporta. Porque muita gente nasce e morre instantes depois. E a pessoa que vive mais de 15 anos já pode se considerar sortuda. Já os nossos avós,com mais de 50,eles são a prova do milagre. Porque não é todo mundo que tem essa sorte.

A wintry evening, the light of the cloud covered day waning into twilights embrace. White draped trees grow into grey lumbering giants of shadow and snow. Snowflakes fall, twisting, tumbling to the ground, their soft hiss the only sound. Birds, squirrels, all the small ones snuggled and nestled into their homes, leaving me to my thoughts, a mote of life, aware and alone.

—My mother taught me manners so I was well-behaved. Before leaving, my father taught me to provide for my family, so I brought food to the table. Faith said family was important so I had a wife and children. —Is any of them alive? —Oh, no..., I think you found them in the kitchen, didn't you? Mother, no tongue; Jinny and the boys nailed to table. All starved to death. Even the poor beggar was invited to dine that night. —Don't you have any remorse? —Of course I do! Nails were not cheap!

Tender song i've heard through darkness, I heard thought every features of this tranquil silence. Susceptible heart, captured by music, sparkles. Fascination of small golden freckles. Smilling face, retrieved happiness. As if blooming flower, reached the shine of Sun, So and my whole body was touched with this cheeriness. Charming obtained emotions.