The sun was shining in a way I'd never seen before. It was a beautiful afternoon and I was in Congo, Africa. I decided to travel to a place where people don't usually go to. I wanted adventure and excitement. Besides, I'd have a chance to get to know a whole different culture.
While I was walking through a poor little village, I could see women carrying jars of water on their heads, little boys running and playing happily, men discussing and taking care of their people. I was with a guide, but I went there all by myself. It was a "no destination" trip and I had no idea about what I was going to do. All the loneliness in the world was on my shoulders, but I couldn't be more cheerful.
The village was wild and enchanting. And behind it all, there was such a melancholy! Perhaps it doesn't make much sense, as Africa is a very poor and sick continent, but it was a melancholy full of peace and extremely poetic. I couldn't leave that place, at least not at that moment. I stopped and stared. All those black skins and all that splendour. The guide gave me a long, hard look. "Aren't you coming?", he asked. "No. Now I belong to Africa.", I said.
Obrigada, Mariana, pela sua gentileza em permitir que eu postasse sua redação aqui :)
