Before entering the subject that deal this post, I need to go back in time.
A few days ago, some trivial facts (drugs, crime, crying mothers), the kind that we're tired of hearing (but thank God still has the power to shock me), made me sad and made me think that even struggling to who's born here there wasn’t a way out, escaping.
I saw myself as a girl sit onthe sidewalk dressing bag pants, holding my own face, as if I was waiting to see what the future would bring me, as if they had not passed 15 years since that time.
I’ve spent the week thinking about my achievements and the path of so many other people I know who frustrated the statistics.
I was already determined to go when I was designated to do an article about that.
|Eu no meio da Chuva de Livros - Sarau da Cooperifa|
Me in the middle of the Books' rain