La balaustrada

I remember my first box of crayons. Pleased to sharpen. The smell of wood shavings. I remember I kept even the tips of color that came off of those pencils. He had a box of tips and sometimes even painted them.

It was a metal box, had a white horse of Terry at the top and the color of the metal was a well-polished old silver. I never saw anything like it.

I remember the first time I took a brush, was about six years and I shook the pulse while my father told me very...

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