:16:02
My mother was one of the schoolteachers
:16:03
retaliated against after the civil war.
:16:06
She taught me to read and write.
:16:10
Softly going up
:16:13
and strongly going down.
:16:16
A little more
:16:18
more ink, wet your pen.
:16:23
Oh, another inkstain!
:16:25
It doesn't matter, go on
:16:27
Go on
:16:31
That's it.
:16:32
She was with me everyday
:16:35
however I have few definite memories of her
:16:38
from that time.
:16:41
I remember her sitting next to a window
:16:45
in the afternoons
:16:46
sewing my dresses,
:16:48
in the greenhouse
:16:50
taking care of her flowers,
:16:52
in the patio varnishing old furniture
:16:55
that she got from God knows where.
:16:57
And at night
:16:59
reading those novels she liked so much.
:17:06
How is it?
:17:08
Very nice.
:17:18
My father's origins were, for me,
:17:20
always a true mystery.
:17:24
I knew nothing of his past
:17:27
but it never bothered me
:17:33
What's that?
:17:35
Spearmint
:17:37
It smells so good!
:17:39
We'll bring some to your mother
:17:40
to put in the soup.
:17:42
For me it was enough having him by my side
:17:44
for nothing else to bother me.
:17:49
The story that mystery held
:17:51
opened up for me little by little
:17:54
through my mother's words.
:17:57
In the south
:17:58
it almost never snows.