IT was the "blue hour": the last light of the day dyed bluish-purple the round and magnificent sky of São Tomé das Letras City,Brazil.
The white and naked stones glittered like glass mirrors of cosmic luminescence.
Light, silence, peace!
People silenced at the tremendous spetacle, as if burried, at the superb celestial dome of the sky.
The church bells tolled and soon all the people said a prayer alltogether:
_"Holy Lady, full of Grace..."
Soon the Mass was over and the hungry darkness sipped the last light of the Sky.
The pub's fire was set. Street boys played at the streets;mothers called their children in vain. The dogs barked idle a-way.
Darkness and racket in a a vagabond holiday.
All of a sudden, a huge and sounding truck invaded the square, with its sharp musical sound. The Mayor, offering music to the indifferent and drunk people.
There was I, sat on a bench at the square, chattering with my friend, the popular poet, the illiterate black man: "Mr.Rosa". He was the live-witness of the "city tales" standing for the oral tradition of the province. I listened to him attentively, to write down  aftewads. The sound of music grew louder ante the rhythm  faster inviting to dance.
The native remained sat,as if put in plaster, in a stone posture.
Mr Rosa, gallant,invited me to dance.
The peopel brutalized, stood rigid and kind of locked in its prosaic ignorance.
The poet Rosa insisted, now on his feet, rehearsing the rhythm, provoking me...
Suddenly I stood up, as an intense and urgent chord sounded...
My feet, loosed and freely, dancing the "Samba"at the empty square,crowned by a resplendent starry sky.
Mr Rosa with a smart  smile followed the music and the joy.
Together, we danced, and danced the Samba...sweat dripping, swinging high.
Unexpectedly, my partner stopped and took my arm.
He pointed out to all that people sat around, inert and insensitive to music and beauty
He made me notice that we were the only ones having fun and taking our chance.
And, showing a subtle clarity, whispered quietly, as if telling a state secret:
Miss Eneyda,the city belongs to us!"

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