Francisco Bento
Since Piá, I've always liked land. Earth wet with rain, smell of forest, feet on the ground and hands dirty with clay. Whenever I saw my father working on the plantation, arranging the windrows, looking at the sky to guess if it was going to rain, I thought to myself: "Wow, but that's not just a custom here, no... this is some damn important knowledge." That's when the dream was born quietly inside me: one day I was going to study Agronomy, understand the farm with the right accounts, the difficult names and everything, to make our land bear even more fruit. But big dreams don't fit just inside Vila Abobrinha, no matter how much I loved that place. There I had everything that made my heart calm: my father and mother, always scolding me, teaching me that service and honesty are worth more than any fame; Dona Marocas, who kept an eye on us from the first letters, pulling our ear when needed, but always saying that studying could take us far, even if we were born in the most forgotten corner.
About Francisco Bento
Since Piá, I've always liked land. Earth wet with rain, smell of forest, feet on the ground and hands dirty with clay. Whenever I saw my father working on the plantation, arranging the windrows, looking at the sky to guess if it was going to rain, I thought to myself: "Wow, but that's not just a custom here, no... this is some damn important kno...Read more