I never imagined that, as I delved into my childhood memories, I would end up drowning in so much nostalgia.
It was supposed to be just a brief stroll along the dirt roads of Araripa,
but I ended up staying there longer than I’d planned—playing games of bétia and running barefoot after the ball
on the little field. And before I knew it, I was once again submerged in the cold waters of the Caraná River,
the Marialva River, and, later, the Itajaí River, where adolescence was beginning to wash over me.
The curious thing is that, despite the hardships of country life, everything seemed lighter.
Frost ravaged the coffee crop, prices plummeted like beans falling to the ground, and yet there was a certain magic.
It was possible to find beauty even in the scorpions and spiders that crossed our path as we cleared
the trunks in the coffee plantations. Working from an early age? Yes. But also living with a carefree spirit,
as only a child knows how to do..