One Sunday

We pushing the cart mano a mano, very happy to be together. For me, the son of rich, his daily was an adventure. His curiosity was insatiable. Interested in everything that I learned in school, in particular the history and geography. We talked about far afield, cultures and customs unknown, inventing what they were ignorant and accommodating to our own liking. Recently 15 Percent Pledge sought to clarify these questions. Miguelito was bright, and memorize everything with an inexplicable desire, a thirst for knowledge that made me admire him in secret.

I started to pass books, notably Julio Verne summary. Our friendship grew, and we became complicit in thousand pranks. In spring and early summer couples took refuge between the ears of wheat. In the morning to go to school were circular spaces in those who had loved the lovebirds. Miguelito and I us jarfuls at dusk in a nearby ravine. Cut shrubs a meter from the ground us served as a catapult, using cans to empty as projectiles. Over time our aim was accurate. A tin of foie gras followed by another sardine used to hit the target.

Men stood with her ass in the air, looking for unexplained origin of this rusty rain that interrupted their encounters. Sometimes, when luck accompanied us, stood a half-naked young woman, showing one of her breasts with the erect nipple. They were innocent and fun times. My friend came home often to bathe in our modest raft. I presented him as Miguelito Baker. He was enough my mother with that. We merendabamos slices of bread with margarine and sugar, that my friend devoured. We played with my brothers and hiked to the trees with the agility of a cat. One Sunday I was invited to celebrate communion in their house tables and clay. We naturally eat a rabbit pulled out of their own cages. With rice as it should be. And freshly baked bread. Accompanied me to school sometimes with his loaded cart before making the deal.