The truth is, I had a few relationships, but nothing worked out. Fate never seemed to be in my favor. So I dedicated myself to my little piece of land: I tended the vegetable garden, raised chickens and a few pigs, and lived a simple and peaceful life.
On a cold late winter afternoon, at the market in the central square, I saw a very thin girl, dressed in old and worn clothes, sitting on the sidewalk with her hand outstretched, begging for something to eat. It wasn’t her appearance that struck me most, but her eyes: clear, sweet, but filled with a deep sadness.
I approached and offered her a pastry and a bottle of water. She lowered her head and thanked me in a weak voice.
That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Days later, I found her again, in another corner of the same market, just as helpless as before. This time, I sat next to her and we started talking. She said her name was Ana Clara. She had no family, no home, nowhere to go. For years she had survived on the streets, depending on the charity of others.
I don’t know exactly what I felt at that moment, but something pounded in my chest. Looking into her eyes, I let slip words I hadn’t planned myself:
— If you accept… I’ll marry you. I’m not rich, but I can give you food and a roof over your head.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. The people at the fair began to comment:
« João has finally lost his mind. »
