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He did not walk to smell the eucalyptus trees or to hear trills or feel the fresh air on his skin, in his lungs. The movement of water in any canal was his dream factory.
Get out of this world and go back to being a girl feeling the freshness in my bare feet. There are ditches with litters and there are abandoned, dry, buried by several layers of tar ... but I see them and talk to them.
Incubator of green smiles, they watch over and carry life. Many forms of life that go unnoticed by adult eyes. A mystery of life in the corner had us astonished the girls of the town and, like brave soldiers, one summer with a lot of water we invaded a part of the canal and we made surveillance from sunrise to sunset. Lacking the means to take photographs, we took turns drawing the changes of what we considered rare fish, day after day. Among the fresh water of the spring were fairies whose magic was to turn their tails into legs, their silence into a high-pitched, joyous croak. Little frogs from San Antonio that still give me luck today.
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