quinta-feira, 7 de maio de 2009

Quincas died - 1969

Mané and Quincas, the two sexagenarian homeless guys living with us slept on the floor, on soft mattresses, made by my mother with an especial kind of grass, harvested from a neighbors’ swamp, where it grew wild. The freshly made beds smelt great. It provided perfect sleep alright.
Daybreak brought life back into business. I woke with a weird noise, as if a cat was being strangled. Quincas was having an attack and my father, holding his hands, whispered a shaky Ave Maria prayer.
Quincas died and was buried before God called it a day. A sad day!

Um comentário:

  1. Maybe George Sand was right when she said that for such people, who suffer so badly in life, death is a blessing =D