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The inconveniences of the breaker are enough to drive even the holiest of men or the holiest of women mad. Noise, dust, limestone, discomfort. . .And the most terrible thing on the list, in our situation: lack of privacy. Oh! My God! Take away the sun and the moon, but don't take away our privacy.
However, that's how we've been surviving lately, like in a big camp, living in improvisation: black canvas delimiting spaces, covering furniture, obscuring everything.
In my room, entrenched, I hear the deafening sound of the roof being removed. The onomatopoeic noises on the slab exasperate me.
In the midst of the struggle, taking refuge in my bed, I try to relax. In my hands, LIVES, the fifteenth book authored by the colleague Wanderlino Arruda, professor, writer, lawyer, researcher, journalist, artist, poet.
This man of a thousand and one trades invited me to preface his book. An indeclinable invitation that I accepted promptly and happily.
