He didn’t look like a country man. Forged over decades of toil in rural work. But it was determined, methodical and meticulous, because throughout every morning I looked after a small vegetable garden as if it were the only thing that really cared and it was this detachment that led me to go beyond my inn room window that was several days ago.

I’d like to meet him.

The next morning I waited for him.  I knew there was some hidden metaphor in your work.

– Good morning, huh?

– Good morning, young man.

– Thank you for the young man.

– You’re welcome, son.

– Friend, I’ve been following you  throughout the week and I’d like to congratulate you on the beautiful serviceyou’ve been doing here. I’m impressed!

– Thank you, son.

– Can you tell me something? What’s it like working in a hostel like this?

– I don’t work here. I’m a guest.

– Do you have a guest?

– Yes, I’m retired. I chose this place to live in. I like it here.

– It really is a beautiful place.

– Yes, it’s quiet and there’s always something to do for these little gowns.

– I think you  have the key to a happy life.  You don’t want to know how things are in the country, in the world. That’s a lot of worries.

– I know that, I was a business administrator for 40 years, son.

And with a smile as he contemplates a new flower that blossoms.

– I have a lot of worries here.

– Are you serious?

– Yes, you see that tomato foot out front. The third branch lower stems from a tomato that hasn’t ripened like the others. This is bothering me.

– I wish I had that concern!

Silence.

– That’s the key!

Text automatically translated from Portuguese into English.

Luciano Mannarino