Here I am, sitting on a wooden bench in the late afternoon, holding my pad of paper and pencil in my hands. I had several inspirations, in this same bank.

I draw lines, forming letters, and thus words, I notice the beautiful little girl with the sweet look and contagious smile playing absently with her paper boat inside the font.

I remember my little girl Ise.

Anyway, I'm here to write a new book, actually a series, where each piece fits together like a jigsaw puzzle; build the shapes and colors of the image, in addition to occupying its proper space at the right time.

When each piece is connected, you will be able to see the image perfectly with other eyes.

** New York - 1991 **

Small snowflakes covered the paths, roofs, trees and porches of the houses. The light from the streetlamps like bonfire flames illuminating the streets amidst the dense snowfall.

I would say this winter night was one of the coldest of the year. Despite this, colorful lights and ornaments decorated the entrances, and wooden structures heralded the most festive times of the year.

A certain figure, wrapped in blankets, ventured down that street, towards one of the lit headlights. In her arms, also wrapped in a hidden cloth, a beautiful pale face that slept soundly. Meanwhile, the whisper of that deep, off-key voice hummed a Christmas carol, contributing to her sleep.

Warm air came out of those thin lips, mingling with the cool night wind, forming smoke and dissipating in a few seconds. His legs left narrow holes in the snow, and with each step a little more strength was needed.

When he reached a rusty barred gate, the man pushed, but the sound of the chains being tied startled him, coming to an abrupt halt. Wide-eyed, he searched the windows of neighboring houses for any sign, fearing someone had overheard. Once again, the air left her lips like smoke and was lost in the night like the sound of currents.

The immense gate was connected with a great line of reddish blocks, some branches of the tree on the sidewalk crossed the wall, thus forming a bridge. On the other side, a snow-covered flower bed lined the wall.

It was perfect for jumping, so the strange man ventured with difficulty.

Since he would need both hands, he opened one of the cloths wrapped around the girl and placed it over her thin, bony body, bringing the ends together in a knot over her shoulder.

The small arms inside the cloths moved and a noise of discomfort sounded.

Quickly the man opened the cloths, revealing again the pale face and silent little eyes fixed on him.

-Shhhh ... - he whispered when he saw the first signs of crying in the girl.

His deep, tuneless voice continued to resonate with the notes of the music vibrating through his mind as well. He gently closed the cloth over the girl's face and focused on the tree ahead.

With difficulty, he braced his massive feet on the smooth trunk and his long arms gripped the branches. Gradually, he reached the height of the wall.

He needed to be careful as his wrinkled shoes slid over the blocks until he found a stable position.

Over the wall--a funny expression to use now--he looked over and directed his feet to the flower bed below that served as a step.

A few seconds later, he was in what appeared to be a garden, white with only small mountains of snow.

The light he saw several meters away was still on, but the windows of the old building showed that the possible inhabitants were sleeping.

He climbed the few porch steps, making soft noises on the old wood beneath his feet. He opened the small blanket again and gradually visualized those little black eyes of the little girl still in his arms.

Carefully, he undid the knot over her broad shoulder and wrapped the little one with the edge of the blanket. For the last time, her eyes watched as she opened her mouth sleepily. At that moment, he felt something awaken deep in his frozen heart; it was an unusual feeling when it came to her...

He placed her on the rug beside the door and closed the blanket again, watching the small body shift uncomfortably, and the noises heralding that a cry would break out at any moment.

The man stretched his knees and placed his finger on the button beside the door, until he squeezed.

The sound of those bells ringing was the signal to get out, and he didn't wait a second longer.

He leapt over the wall again, leaving behind the sounds of that waking cry.

*

The lights came on, footsteps hurried toward the melancholy scream coming from the entrance. The door opened and a young woman wrapped in her nightclothes appeared with a lamp in her hand.

- Oh Lord! she-she exclaimed when she saw that pile of rags moving on the rug in the doorway.

*

The young woman opened the cloths finding there the scream of fear, and eyes full of tears and loneliness.

- Who is Medeline? - A lady approached with a candle in her hands.

The young woman left the lamp on the floor and welcomed the girl into her affectionate arms.

- Another child, Mrs. Margaret.

- My God! - exclaimed Mrs. Margaret illuminating the girl's face with the candle light - We already have enough for adoption ...

- But we cannot leave you here, ma'am, the night is very cold... - said the young woman.

- I know, I know,- the woman repeated severely, while the wrinkles appeared on her face, leaving it with the same aspect. - I hope she's adopted soon...

- Poor child...

...

While rummaging through my yellow pad, I thought of several ways to start, after all this story could be one more among many that have already been forgotten, or, perhaps, the one that identifies itself... Who knows?

My goal is simply to tell you to take a different view of life; and find God's love in all things, especially in storms and uncertainties, just as I found...

However, I would like to emphasize that it is not about me, but I can say that soon you will meet me... But very soon...

So one of the best ways to get started would be at the "beginning"...