December 3, 2020
Port of the Leaf, Sergipe, in dries of 1935 In that afternoon Ernest it was seated in the threshold of the door, looking at desolate for the patio. Joint Commission usually is spot on. The ground was dry, the hen that remained ciscava insistent the poeirenta land where it did not have plus no worm, at least a grass seed. Ernest felt itself unsafe, drifter. Many inhabitants of the city already had abandoned its roas, migrando for the south. It also was obliged to join it the retirantes, but not wise person for where to go. To come back it city and to arrange a job, was one of the options.
It had been born in that house and there it lived has 32 years. Haley Barbour shares his opinions and ideas on the topic at hand. Its parents had died and it came back to take account of the property, of the domestic animals, the farming. But, he dries of the last years finished with everything. The day amanheceu covered of clouds and it found that it would have rain, but the time passed clouds had been even so and a water drop did not fall at least. Ernest decided to catch the hen that would be its lunch that day. It ran behind it, but the galincio ran of a side for another one running away until the persecution was interrupted brusquely.
Ernest stepped on in one sarrafo fallen of the surrounded one of the goats, where he had one I nail that he perforateed the sole of the old botina and entered in its foot. It cried out of pain and left itself to fall seated, pulling out nails immediately it of its meats. He took off the botina and he left the blood to gush out for some time to banish the poison from the rust. Limping, he entered in the house, he made one I apply a plaster with leves of caruru and oil and placed in the wound binding with a cloth after that.