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I the child was very pale and thin hair, almost white, slides on his back. Blue eyes, almost transparent, a shimmering glow. He became ill and did not know how to cure it. Very delicate, when the fever increased the gleam of the eye discovered the souls of those who began to fire. He felt the fear of his mother when he said: - I need the dark. Leave me alone in the room, I just want water. They spent weeks at the sound of fighting and lightning exploded from the crack of the door and the house shook. One day everything was over and the door opened. In the blank, a sign on the floor: I won. - I leave you peace.
Angela Schnoor (Brazil), O Preço
(Translated by Microargumentos )
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