“It didn’t feel like a midday in winter. The sun was dropping a clean light down onto the streets. It didn’t burn but the warmth of it was more like the caress of a woman’s hand. In the nearby park flowers were bursting out with colors. Daisies and sunflowers, roses and carnations, dahlias and violets. There seemed to be a delicate perfume on the street, very thin, but one that Lollipop felt entering his nostrils as if to intoxicate him. At the door of some rich Portuguese’s house he’d eaten the... leftovers from a lunch that had almost been a banquet. The maid who’d brought him the full plate had said, looking at the streets, the winter sun, the men passing without their coats: “We’re getting a beautiful day.” Those words went along with Lollipop down the street. A beautiful day, and the boy went along unconcerned, whistling a samba that God’s-Love had taught him, remembering that Father José Pedro had promised to do everything to get him a place in the seminary. Father José Pedro had told him that all the beauty that fell and wrapped the earth and men was a gift from God and that it was necessary to thank God.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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