I think I learned to write only to tell the story of my life. Those that enjoyed early years of my life, and that any family situation might miss if I went out to wander with friends basked me playing until late at night. I was never strongly repressed by street walk, my mother just showed that I was going to go very wrong if he continued down that path. I once threatened to send me to boarding school, but never fulfilled. Much earlier, could giving me with some of his wealthy family, but did not, decided to stay with her last child at the expense of the little money my father earned.
When I was six years my mother had a relapse of their disease ancient product, for which had to be hospitalized for more than fifteen days in a hospital in the city, I do not remember if it was a product of his convalescence infection, or some other virus did he do that was a couple of weeks in San Jose hospital.
that time my brothers took care of me, but brat child is unconcerned that even went to elementary school. I went out every afternoon after school to play with my friends, and wandered out of our territory. We knew kids from other colonies and played football with them. My father saw me in the street when he came home from work and wondered if he had eaten, and having an affirmative answer, he went to his room and do not know things, and talked long hours with my brothers on my sick mother.
One time I said, if you like so much walking on the street, I'll buy a box of bolero, and you get to work. I did not believe him and continued on my roll, but days later brought a wooden box even without the tools to clean the shoes. He told me that soon I would bring everything needed to start my first job. So I took the plunge and got what serves for that office: the average cut brushes, bottles for liquid soap, which I made a hole in the screw cap, brushes, dusters and frayed trousers of my sisters. Two or three times a week I went downtown with professional learning boleros that task that my father beat me. Then came the paintings. Here's your box, now, earn money. Said.
started by the family's shoes. My friends laughed of my position that they did not do anything and put it spent playing stickball. I invited them to help me, saying how important it was to work, but I accompanied a while and leave. My best friend helped me with the task of polishing, but not before inviting you to promise something when I paid. As the family's shoes were few, I went out.
My mother took one week in hospital and my brother told me that it would soon also argued that if I worked the following week could get fifty dollars to buy flowers. By then the boleada cost four pesos or less, and if you wanted to, had to compromise. Then clean stinky shoes of my neighbors until I was once a pile of old shoes that they wanted to remain as new: shoes, tennis shoes and sandals low. Everything had to be polished. That bag of shoes would pay me sixty dollars, and that to me was a lot of money. Then I started. Had in mind the bouquet of flowers for my sick mother.
I did and finished the job successfully, but having the money from my efforts, and to see my paint-stained hands, no longer wanted to buy flowers, I wanted gastármelo. Think about buying a flower adorned only ten dollars, and for me, a ball. Addition I did not know if my mother liked. My brother told me that all women like flowers and more to my mother that I would learn to appreciate like no other. So I did. When my mother arrived in the ambulance social insurance, expected to come home and gave her the bouquet of flowers with all my affection. My mother made them much attention and gratitude showed me weak, although in his eyes I saw something more than I expected. There I understood too much about it. The flowers were placed in a vase and dried ten days. Looked at every day when I went to school, when he returned, when he walked around the room, when I went to the bathroom, when I asked for coffee. Also the place changed when we ate, and who were at the table on a plastic tablecloth. My mother was sick and gave him a taste flowers inside, he knew. Days later thanked me telling my father that I give a fuck to go to street. The boleada once I left my father found me in the center of town shining the boots of one of his enemies. I guess he got mad, as I said, I do not want to walk in the street boleando shoes, what you want there, I will give it. Never got a weight on his part.
Raul Picard
that time my brothers took care of me, but brat child is unconcerned that even went to elementary school. I went out every afternoon after school to play with my friends, and wandered out of our territory. We knew kids from other colonies and played football with them. My father saw me in the street when he came home from work and wondered if he had eaten, and having an affirmative answer, he went to his room and do not know things, and talked long hours with my brothers on my sick mother.
One time I said, if you like so much walking on the street, I'll buy a box of bolero, and you get to work. I did not believe him and continued on my roll, but days later brought a wooden box even without the tools to clean the shoes. He told me that soon I would bring everything needed to start my first job. So I took the plunge and got what serves for that office: the average cut brushes, bottles for liquid soap, which I made a hole in the screw cap, brushes, dusters and frayed trousers of my sisters. Two or three times a week I went downtown with professional learning boleros that task that my father beat me. Then came the paintings. Here's your box, now, earn money. Said.
started by the family's shoes. My friends laughed of my position that they did not do anything and put it spent playing stickball. I invited them to help me, saying how important it was to work, but I accompanied a while and leave. My best friend helped me with the task of polishing, but not before inviting you to promise something when I paid. As the family's shoes were few, I went out.
My mother took one week in hospital and my brother told me that it would soon also argued that if I worked the following week could get fifty dollars to buy flowers. By then the boleada cost four pesos or less, and if you wanted to, had to compromise. Then clean stinky shoes of my neighbors until I was once a pile of old shoes that they wanted to remain as new: shoes, tennis shoes and sandals low. Everything had to be polished. That bag of shoes would pay me sixty dollars, and that to me was a lot of money. Then I started. Had in mind the bouquet of flowers for my sick mother.
I did and finished the job successfully, but having the money from my efforts, and to see my paint-stained hands, no longer wanted to buy flowers, I wanted gastármelo. Think about buying a flower adorned only ten dollars, and for me, a ball. Addition I did not know if my mother liked. My brother told me that all women like flowers and more to my mother that I would learn to appreciate like no other. So I did. When my mother arrived in the ambulance social insurance, expected to come home and gave her the bouquet of flowers with all my affection. My mother made them much attention and gratitude showed me weak, although in his eyes I saw something more than I expected. There I understood too much about it. The flowers were placed in a vase and dried ten days. Looked at every day when I went to school, when he returned, when he walked around the room, when I went to the bathroom, when I asked for coffee. Also the place changed when we ate, and who were at the table on a plastic tablecloth. My mother was sick and gave him a taste flowers inside, he knew. Days later thanked me telling my father that I give a fuck to go to street. The boleada once I left my father found me in the center of town shining the boots of one of his enemies. I guess he got mad, as I said, I do not want to walk in the street boleando shoes, what you want there, I will give it. Never got a weight on his part.
Raul Picard
0 comments:
Post a Comment