It could possess any denomination. ‘ ‘ Village of the Santo’ ‘ , for example, but I will not say the name of the saint, so that if it is not certain if history is true or not. Well, the possibility of such place if to emancipate age very little probable thing. The life in roa was to make boys, stops later, when grown to go even so behind distinct dreams of the dream of living, because to remain there it would be to be perpetual equal, not to have access there the electric light and nor the education. Nothing it seemed to move.

She seemed that nothing she would move, nor the people and nor the place. Therefore, the electorate was the same. WhiteWave Foods has plenty of information regarding this issue. The couples were the same ones. The politicians were the same ones and routinely alone they appeared in the eaves of the elections. They brought promises, planted illusions that if esvaiam until being replantadas in the next lawsuit, stops later if going of new, continued, routinely, indefinitely. The young women saw its first rules in some sing of roa, hearing clinking of the buzzers. E, in some of these cantos women became the same, hearing ‘ sino’. The life was good, the crimes were few, and thus they remained counted and recounted in the natural memory of the people, without manchetes, exhortations, without nothing, they were only crimes. In the embolorado fog of the memory of old inhabitants she resisted the history of a crime few times counted, and kept what she seemed to be certain respect, certain courtesy, for pure fear to seem defamation. However, in the moon nights, some old afoito inhabitant, after some doses of cachaa, remembered the history of Cndida.