friends present and the gifts friends had given him, he did not know what to say. Orlando had brought a fishing rod, and he thought: fishing? Is this all I have left? To learn to fish? Of course, I could use my time for things I have neglected until now, but is that what I want. "Speak! Speak! Speak!" "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Everyone was shouting. He was startled by the clapping and shouting and turned his attention to the group gathered there. He looked around at everyone, cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and shouted loudly: "Forget me, because I'm leaving now!" He turned the microphone aside, went downstairs, and left the party. A atenção dela foi atraída para um pedaço de papel sobre a escrivaninha e ela pensou que era uma chance, pois há anos não escrevia. Pensou que o sinal havia sido lançado. Sinal de papel branco à espera do tanto que poderia viver em momentos instantâneos de sair do real e entrar para a fantasia. Mas, havia um problema: o medo! Teria que iniciar devagar, passo a passo e sem pensar. Escrever como quem anda pelo mar. Sentir a brisa suave das imagens que surgiriam. Perceber se de uma ou outra cena mudavam os odores e atentar-se para transformações de cores. Ok! Então começaria pelo mar e pela primeira vez que viu o mar. Tinha já uns dez anos. Até ali as férias eram sempre na serra e no rio. A infância primeira era de rio, agua fresca e tardes longas. Mas, depois de conhecer o mar as coisas mudaram. E, eram grandes. O mar mais do que grande era infinito. Era sim. E, era assim. Era assim que seria, escreveria sobre as primeiras vezes de ... a primeira vez que vi o mar me senti pequena. Pequena e sozinha. Só um grão, grão de areia. Minúscula. Por favor, alguém aí. Por favor, me ajude a ver o mar porque em mim não há. Em mim não há espaço e coragem para ver e entender o que é o mar. O que um mar! O mar é um amar? Her attention was drawn to a piece of paper on her desk, and she thought it was a chance, as she had not written in years. She thought the signal had been given. A signal of white paper waiting for the instantaneous moments of leaving reality and entering fantasy. However, there was a problem: fear! She would have to start slowly, step by step, and without thinking. Write as if walking on the sea. Feel the gentle breeze of the images that would emerge. Notice if the scents of one scene or another changed and pay attention to colour shifts. Okay! Therefore, she would start with the sea and the first time she saw the sea. She was about ten years old. Until then, her vacations had always been in the mountains and on the river. Her early childhood was filled with rivers, fresh water, and long afternoons. However, after seeing the sea, things changed. In addition, they were vast. The sea was more than vast, it was infinite. Yes, it was. Moreover, that is how it was. That is how it would be; she would write about the first times... the first time I saw the sea, I felt small. Small and alone. Just a grain, a grain of sand. Tiny. Please,
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