“Mom! Mom! Mom!” – A little boy came screaming into the kitchen, his slippers echoing, startling the woman who was mixing cornmeal and other ingredients in a pot on the table. – “I made a new friend!”

The woman put her hand to her chest to calm the palpitations, dropping the wooden spoon, she didn't know where her son got so much energy even after class.

“How good my angel.” – The woman said in a soft voice, making a gesture for the little one to approach. – “Put away your backpack and come help mother to bake some bolo de cabo-de-madeira, yes?”

The boy nodded and ran to leave his backpack in his room, the mother heard him stumble and grunt, he must have hit something, but he quickly returned to grab the hem of his mother's skirt, his eyes shining with longing because only once a year his mother made that recipe, for the Santa Barbara Festival.

The kitchen was simple, with exposed brick, grayed by smoke from the woodstove, but the smell of clay and wood was what made that house a home for the little boy.

“Tell me about the new friend of yours.” - The mother said, returning to the service but still giving her child some attention, the boy smiled his widest smile and told his mother what had happened.

It was playtime. The best part of going to school was the break. Not that studying was bad, it just wasn't as intriguing as everything there was to be seen and felt outside the classroom, the walls of the house that served as a school, it's fences, the city limits, and beyond.

That's how Davi ran out the door when the bell rang, with his disheveled hair obstructing his vision, and ran into a smaller boy.

Davi was used to this kind of situation. Really. It was routine to bump into his classmates down the only corridor of the elementary school. And as a routine, the classmates fell to the ground and cried. The boy waited for the other one to start the outburst, but instead, the boy with properly lined up dark hair just checked his clothes, frowned and continued on his way.