dear son taue...dear son peter...well... after last weeks interruption...which... fortunately... had a happy-end...I decided to continue with the stories of my life...since last email was a little bit... too much scientific...and... nothing like to listen to a story more human...as opposed to the more scientific ones...( it seems to me that the stories which are more human... get in more easily... they are easier to digest...)but this doesnt mean that the scientific-type-of-stories are worthless...they are important too...its like in life...sometimes we are not too enthusiastic about doing a certain type of activity...( to clean the dust off the room... for instance...)but we have to do it anyway...because if we dont...we would end-up breathing-in all that dust...which obviously is not good for us...( although I read once in a book... in a humoristic tone... that... its been scientifically proved that... once the dust reaches three centimeters high... we dont have to clean it anymore... because... its been proved... that... beyond those three centimeters... its impossible to accumulate more dust...)--- --- ---we had stopped our story... in recife...at age four... ( or five )...sitting... all day long on the front-yard-wall...watching the cars pass by...thinking on nothing...just savoring the moment...without deep thoughts...without deep worries...it seems like my childhood was sectioned in a series of three-years-periods: the three first years of life... in boston...the three next years... in recife...and... the three next ones ( from six to nine-years-old...)... in rio-de-janeiro...more precisely... in a neighborhood which is on the border of jardim-botanico......and gavea...with a road made of those little-rectangular-stone-blocks...a place resembling the vila... in ipanema...where you used to play with juninho... and the other kids at the vila...the aura was similar...we used to play soccer...on the sidewalk...without much fussiness...it wasnt necessary a soccer field...in order to play soccer...the sidewalk was just perfect...I used to study in a public school by the lagoa area...and take the trolley-bus to school...I was eight-years-old... when my mother said that I could take my sister clarice...( who was four-years-old ) to her kindergarten... which was located right in front of my school...and... that was the scene...me at age eight... taking my sister ( age four )... to her school... and... from there... going to my classes on the other side of the road...good times... no violence... a life with no stress...my mother used to give me the exact amount-of-money... for the trolley-bus-ticket...at the end-of-classes... I didnt have to pick up my sister anymore...because my mother had already done it...since my sisters classes ended before mine...so... at the end of classes...since I had the exact amount-of-money for the trolley-bus-ticket...I rather... instead of taking the trolley-bus...I rather spend the money on a little-bag of pop-corn...and... walk home... arriving at my home-street... even before going home...I used to dive into the soccer-game with my friends... on the side-walk...a very calm life... with no deep worries...but... not everything in the garden was rosy...in contrast to my life of a dreamer in recife... sitting on the front-yard-wall...thinking on nothing... just living...there... on rio-de-janeiro...at age eight...I passed through an experience... that made me see the reality:not everything in