As if it were for the first time

I stroll through Liberdade Square. I breathe in the flowers and joyous warble of the birds.

The water fountain washes the soul and carries away our woes, purifying the air and spirit. A lady-of-the-night is adorned in flowers and exhales a sweet and sensual perfume. The breeze blows in calescent rhymes of love through the evening air.

I stop in front of the Cultural Wagon which “brings the universe of Fernando Sabino to you.” It’s eight PM. The train is parked in the station. Only tomorrow at 8:00am will passengers board and continue their trip in commemoration of the author’s 90^th birthday. I open my purse, take out a pen and write on the backside of my cellphone bill, which was due yesterday. I forgot to pay it.

I write about what I don’t know so that I may come to know.

A woman’s voice behind me asks,

“How do you think they got this train here? How did they make the tracks? Is it for real? Or is it plastic? Are you writing this all down? Pretty nice, huh? I’m just reading. Is Fernando Sabino a writer? Is he from here? Is he still alive? Do you know him? I’m coming in from Savassi. I work there. At a fashion confection store. Seamstress. I sew at night. Sometimes up to midnight. Embroidery with bead inlay. Party gowns. I’m making wedding gown right now. I’m doing it on the side. Every day I stop by here, get in touch with nature before going home. It’s good to catch a breather. I really like it. I stand around and look at the flowers just spewing their perfumes. Just look at that lady-of-the-night ! I love that smell.

In literature, like in nature, nothing is created, nothing is wasted; everything is transformed.

This train in the square deal must be an incentive for people to read more, right? There’s actually so many good things for youths these days. And yet so many screw around with drugs. I have a son. I’m single. I raised my kids on my own. Thank God… Every once in a while I ask him if… They say ‘Oh mom! What kind of thing is that to ask? Drugs are a two-way street: pin-stripes or the cemetery.’ He has a cousin who’s an addict, you know. He’s in jail. At least I don’t have any of that in my house. I just need to get rid of this right here. I kicked cigarettes. But beer… every day, when I get off from work, I got to grab a cold one. How about you? Man I wish I were like you. I wish I disliked the taste, disliked the smell. But I’m still gonna kick it, God help me! And I’ll even be able to participate in the Lord’s Supper… Yeah… the Lord’s Supper. I don’t know what your religion is. But in any religion, there’s got to be a Lord’s Supper. Eat the body of Christ… I can’t wait to do it. But can’t. I drink this here, right? How am I going to receive the body of Christ? I’m all anxious today. My son got his license. He’s already buying a motorcycle. A motorcycle here in Belo Horizonte… it’s scary. He has a clear head alright, but it’s not always up to the motorcyclist, right? These roads… My daughter bought herself a car. She’s a receptionist. Works nights. I tell her ‘wait for the sun to come up. Don’t come home at night!’ She gets off around six o’clock. Drives by, oh, every day. And I’m sitting here all anxious. Hey! Did you read this here?

Living is a question of patience.

Check out this tree! See way up there on high the red ovenbird’s nest? How does he do it? With that little beak. Carries mud here and there until he makes one of these houses. Reminds me of where I used to live. I’m from the interior. We had a hard life. We built our house out of wattle and daub. Ever heard of it? We stick wood poles in the ground. Then we tie them all together with vines. Then we come in with the mud, earth, sand and cow manuer. Mix it all up and mash it until it gets nice and sticky. Then we hurl handloads of it and form it around until the walls are all filled in. All muddy, we come in and add a finishing layer over the walls. White mud. We fetch it from big craters in the creek beds. A really thin mud! Ever seen it? We just slide it on there, fixing it on with our hands. The walls get all smooth. Afterward, we cover it with a thatched roof. The floor is also made of mud, same as the walls. The oven…

I really like traveling. Last year I went to Porto Seguro. By bus. My daughter wanted me to go by plane. But I like buses. Long road let me tell ya; sixteen hours long. But we go through a whole bunch of places, get to know lots of different towns.

 Everyone has two eyes to see. What a strange thing. One must see the reality hidden beyond, where sight cannot reach.

I like to look. I stop by here every day. I have my little beer and look around. My kids say that I get home too late. I’m not doing anything wrong. God knows. I like taking a gander, that’s all. Life is so beautiful. So much to see. I keep thinking: how is it that youths get into drugs? They don’t know how to see, right? When I’m traveling, I look at everything. Suddenly, a little town pops up on the horizon… Wattle and daub houses with thatched roofs I didn’t think they made those anymore. That I would never see my little straw roof house again. The bus passes by; the rain falls, the horses all parked right there outside, people in the windows watching the rain fall. A flashback to my childhood… I’m fifty-six now. I still want to live a lot. Travel. See all the beautiful things there are to see. By bus. The big double-decker ones. The driver stays on the first deck. Both of them. They change shifts. But both stay on the first floor. The kids stay on the top deck with me. There were a bunch of kids on this last trip. They look at everything, talk non-stop, discovering things. ‘Look, cows! Look how many there are! See that little house?’ They’d never even seen ‘em before. It’s great traveling with kids. Do you ever travel? It was nice meeting you here. It’s been a real pleasure getting to know you. What’s your name again? Mine’s Cida. Aparecida. But you can call me Cida. Did you write that one down? That would make a good a T-shirt.”

Look at everything as if it were for the first time.