COULD SOMEONE CORRECT MY TEXT, PLEASE? Antonieta's face is sugary, standing out among the sourness of those who complain about waking up before the rooster. I’m not publicizing the lady beside me, I just appreciate the soul that discovered the beauty of the essential present moment. She kept the natural color of her gray hair, and her brow only creased to choose the roundest onions at the fair. And, while she was obstinate in her objective, an acquaintance brought up the subject: “I see that you stopped dyeing your hair, Tonia”. She pauses, looks at the old church 'Nosso Senhor dos Passos', brushed in harmonic tones of snow and cream, maybe noticing a coincidence between them highlighted by time, and says: “I started liking this way”. Antonieta, like many who dare to live blowing out candles, went through personal problems, constant tiredness, saw part of her family reach the decline and the flash of the pains of existence, she was a witness of time ... but at the fair, for the first time, she felt at home. Right after filling the bags, my mother and I, on the way back, took some photos that immortalize impressions, unfortunately not sensations of Cachoeiro. Getting to know Cachoeiro requires being human, not an artificial one, hence the motto: watching a play in the comfort of a theatrical armchair, with people around and the heartbeat of the actors brings a better and more vivid experience than watching it on television. And that's how I feel about Cachoeiro. On a market day, we see relaxed faces, and despite the early hours that are difficult to get used to, the weather here accommodates us warm. Its climate preserves the song of birds and makes the seeds of hope want to emerge on its soil. I can enumerate the poetic pleiad of your greatness whose set of stars celebrate your name, but it would be difficult to conceive the comparison in words of its miracles. There are so many, and there will be so many more...