“Because you can’t be a poet without a bow tie. When Uncle Edmundo shows me pictures of poets in the magazine,
they’re all wearing bow ties.” “Zezé, you have to stop believing everything he tells you.
Uncle Edmundo’s a bit cuckoo. He lies a bit.” “Is he a son of a bitch?
You’ve already been slapped across the mouth for using so many swear words!
Uncle Edmundo isn’t that. I said ‘cuckoo’. A bit crazy.” “You said he was a liar.”
They’re two completely different things.” “No, they’re not. The other day, Father was talking about Labonne
with Severino, the one who plays cards with him, and he said, ‘That old son of a bitch is a bloody liar.’
And no one slapped him across the mouth.” “It’s OK for grown-ups to say things like that.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. “Uncle Edmundo isn’t... What does cuckoo mean again, Totoca?
He pointed his finger at his head and twisted it around. “No, he isn’t. He’s really nice.
He teaches me things, and he only smacked me once and it wasn’t hard.” Totoca started.
“He smacked you? When?”When I was really naughty and Glória sent me to Gran’s house.
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