The hermit

He was a man with small dreams near a giant world of possibilities. He was a man like a grain of sand in an immense dune unknown, a man who found grace in the little working ants carrying leaflets, looking over, they were very small. When he finally decided to get out of the boredom of the white-walled house in the middle of a block of tall buildings with only five hundred dollars in his wallet. He crossed America to Panama, on pedal races and small jobs that he managed to keep in order to live the hermit life of the icy days of the North, toward the hot days of the south, descended into the Amazon forest, met the colorful skies, the walls they were no longer so narrow and white.

After saving a few good exchanges and dwellings for the hermit's life, he crossed the Atlantic to the heart of Africa, there was a slope on the ground, full of channels carrying crystal clear water, and also carrying gold threads through the streams, blood for all locals, there should be a giant golden heart where the hole was, so there were only footprints in the dry land, the heart had migrated north.

The little man followed the footprints of a hermit, and the climate was no longer as mild as the south, reaching north, saw the immense golden heart beating, castles, churches, philosophy and art. There was another favor season in exchange for jobs and again crossed the northern European Atlantic to North America to return home. The next morning at breakfast, watching the small mawls wandering around the plate, were no longer so small.

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