By 9.30, it is as hot as midday. Magnificent ball of orange going down with surprising rapidity, dancing behind the trees as the ship moves along, sometimes obscured, sometimes appearing full circle in a gap between the forest. Channel narrower than ever. Within minutes of the sun setting, the moon rises, a smaller yellow-tinged ball climbing swiftly. Night with the forest closing in, not the towering impression Hollywood-style but low and surrounding the ship with its limitlessness.
Settlers fight the forest inch by inch for possession.
A battle that may never be won perhaps can never be won. Talking with the poet, Antonio Fantinato. The people are sufferers, they are martyrs, but they love the land, no matter how cruel the land may be to them or their children. Progress held back by bureaucrats and politicians. Luiz agrees that the land situation is a mess.