"They are approaching. The boat sails almost to the gentle drift of the wind. It will soon reach the shore. And everyone will want to descend quickly. They expect the holy water of our mother river. And I also wait for you.
I see enough older people in the boat. It's good for me. They are the ones who buy me the most. And those who requisitioner me. The elderly like to eat sugar after stepping on the shore. And before starting prayers and offerings.
The pilgrims carry their little altars with them. Flowers, candles and incense. That will bless and deliver to the water. And that I will see, then, move slowly along the surface of the river. Small islands of light, drawing bright lines of hope, in the direction of the infinite horizon.
Everyone always ends up to the waist in the water. They close their eyes and remain still, with their arms raised in the direction of the sky, praying in silence.
Before leaving the river, they throw words dressed in hope. They ask. And they expect, one day, they are granted.
I do the same. I ask you to approach. And I hope they buy me the sweets that I carry in the basket.
Yesterday I managed to gather these candies. They are not many, but I don't complain. I'm not here to complain. I am here to sell them. And I know I'm going to sell them.
If they don't drill me too much, it will reach me to buy the vegetable that my mother asked for. And, with a little luck, I can buy some fresh cheese. And, perhaps, a mango or two.
Then I will do what the pilgrims do. I will enter the river slowly and I will not stop until the water reaches my waist.
I will close my eyes. I will lift my arms towards the sky. And, in silence, I will thank life, I will beg you not to forget and send my blessing. "
