CROSSWAY São Paulo, January 26th, 1973 Hunger ever-renewed in the house by cookie dipped in coffee. The backdoor left open by the neutral hand of the maid. My grandfather on the narrow sidewalk of a city looking for a village. My grandfather with his largest umbrella on the driest day of the year. My grandfather without a name that would grant him a son, a house. After two years of searching, they finally locked the door. My grandfather walking safely the crossway of time.
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