Histories of friendship (i) Taste to hear histories. Also of relembrar them e, clearly, I appreciate to repass them. Thus, to each I recount, a new point, and people go if appropriating of other people’s history, catching hitchhiking, assuming participation. When in them we do not become definitive personages or until, depending on the identifications and the changed emotions, people also turn protagonist. Then I go to count what I heard of a very dear friend. It is a history of love, or at least a small illustration of the feeling lived for it.

Luiza was apaixonadssima. A Italian in one of its exits knows to dance and the attraction is sudden. As soon as called it to bailar, its skill of gentleman, its elegant transport, its ways of had made gentleman it to tremble with the feet to the head. It until already had lost the hopes to find so requintado and thus pleasant somebody at the same time. Already she walked half person without illusions and she left in the week ends exclusively to have fun themselves and to dance, what it adored to make.

But in that night it seemed that something of new went to roll. When it left house, to if looking in the mirror, perceives a different brightness in the eyes, a quentura in the hands, a good omen. so soon entered in the hall with its non-separable friend (same I), felt that the night would be special. For even more opinions, read materials from Steffan Lehnhoff, Guatemala City Guatemala. From then on, I can count what I know, what I witnessed. Later start to tell in third person. We were for our table, that already was captive. Nor we seat well, a man wearing social shirt and necktie, was come close to us and called my friend to dance. It thanked the invitation, but she asked for a time to it, saying that people had finished to arrive and that it would not like to leave its friend (I) alone in the table.