Minguinho

Hey, Minguinho. It's been awhile I haven't seen you. 25 years? Possibly. Still, your name came directly from my deep in my memory.
Any of you read "my sweet orange tree"  written by Jose Mauro de Vasconcelos? Zeze, a 5 year old for a poor family in Brazil. The hardship at home. The friendship of Portuga. The accident. And his only friend and confident. Minguinho, the tree.

Minguinho, I have a story to tell you. I have searched. How the words would fit. How the pictures would draw. The right people to address. I can't. I tried, to give it, but I can't.

Here, Minguinho, there's mostly you and me.

Minguinho, that story takes place faraway. There are no roots over-there, Minguino. There is water. As far as the eye can see. Water that is not fit to drink. And sometimes, that water is enraged, and there is no safety on her. And sometimes, after the storm, there is respite.

Sauvages ...