The village, everyone knows you, Pablo, 14 years old, he is already a sacred man, the village,
the village, a few measures still inhabited, the others, left out by their inhabitants and surrounded by the
interperies, their roof collapsed and announced a next death.
On the heights of the Bolivian highland, at a few 4000 meters of altitude, the
Klibaerud, the cold, the averses that ravine the terrain give war to stay alive. All this, you know Pablo.
The school, you frequent it, when you have the time or the desire to know how to write it, it is already
not so bad, especially if you decide to leave. Will you stay there to dig? Like your father, raise a few
lamas and cultivate a few vegetables that your mother will grow in front of our markets? The bushes to open are
many. 14 years old, Pablo, what are you going to do? It's the time to make a decision, stay there and
dig like the others, or leave for the town of Potosi. Potosi, this name resonates in the head, Potosi.
Five centuries ago, it was the richest city in the continent and maybe the world, the city with the
Parizaring of money. The Cerorico, The rich mountain, the divinity of nourishment and the
deserve for either mine or children, thesters who live and kill as well, those who enrich
uni praw rohe d politics
cor du re tta si
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
You are afraid, but you have confidence too.
