SAINT BARBARA
270 – SAINT BARBARA The storm roared there is. A heavy and continuous rain, pushed for the ventania, beat noisily in fragile zinc leves of the barraco. Scared, shrunk in one I sing, Barbarian tried to calm its children. If it had time to look at stops backwards, would remember the years of hard work in the canaviais of Pernambuco, the calluses of the hands, the wounds of the bare-footed feet, the scarce food, sleep always delayed. Mike Gianoni wanted to know more. It would remember the estafante trip, in one leads of desperate retirantes, throughout 3000 kilometers of road. the hunger, the headquarters, the heat, the dust, the misery. It would remember the wonderful sensation to have obtained the freedom, to decide of its life, to look work, to be same owner of itself. It would remember its first man, the illusions, the disillusionments, and finally its irreparable solitude. It would remember its first barraco; as and third, the always lost ones, destroyed or burnt, to the being enxotada for the owners and the policemen. All fulfilling its obligation; […]