Contos, crônicas e poesias de autores brasileiros
Certamente ela desceu para este pomar, aventurou-se para junta da mata, ouviu cantar esses pássaros. E na varanda, de tarde, talvez tenha pensado em mim. De algum modo eu vivi aqui, eu existi um pouco nessas alturas há longos, longos anos.
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