Memories of Isabella

Eighteen of April. Isabella complete six years of age, but she simply does not live. It became a rusty laugh on the photo that still ranks in the memories of her mother, trembling and an image without color, far. A reflection of what was insane Isabella. Girl smiling, victims of barbarity, cruelty, disaffection.

In the drawer of old photographs are memories that will never multiply. His clothes remain in the closet, untouched, waiting for his lady. But his lady fails to come back. The mother, desperate, still weeping. Her tears seem to contain any trouble in the world. The heart, small and hurt, still seeking reasons of which reason knows nothing. The photos of those albums natal passed untouched to continue running voracious the ages ... When Isabella returned to their? When life again see that child smile that never left shaken by the dark night, though the shadows to involve? Responses do not seem to exist ... not seem to make sense. And whenever the door opens, there is the impression that it is coming from school. It's as if your birthday was also celebrated, and his smile lit respect across the room, leaving only the shock of a cloudy day.

But we know that will never happen. The heart tries to cheat in search output, but there is no escape, unless his life has preached in a number mysterious and dull. The nostalgia will be ... The afternoons he spent with the mother will always be remembered ... The world which he loved, with his family, his toys, his friends from school ... that certainly no one off. Because life can not be repeated, but, contrary to what we think, is not like graffiti that turns off the light touch of rubber. Life is more full and fabulous, there is no eraser that can erase the good times we had.

Mauricio Novais