Our thinking grows and grows and takes over our heads and our hearts.
It lives in our eyes and in every part of our lives.”
“Right. And what about the little bird?” “The little bird was made by God to help children discover things.
Then when the child no longer needs it, he gives it back to God.
And God puts it in another intelligent boy like you. Isn’t that beautiful?”
I laughed happily because I was thinking. “It is. I’ll be going now.”
“Still want that tostão?” “Not today. I’m going to be very busy.”
I set off down the street thinking about everything. But I remembered something that made me really sad.
Totoca used to have a beautiful finch. It was tame and perched on his finger when he changed its birdseed.
He could even leave the door open and it wouldn’t fly away.
One day Totoca forgot him out in the sun. And the hot sun killed him.
I remembered Totoca holding him in his hand, crying; crying and holding the dead bird to his cheek.
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