At first I intended to write a book that would perpetuate my life. The opportunity to write it for the first time emerged when I was still working in the Federal Senate, as soon as I had arrived in Brazilia, a very especial moment of my life and very little known of my friends who had remained in the distant state of Rio Grande do Sul, the state I am from.
In january 2003, I started planning in my mind, how would this book be? Would it be totally clear of everything that had happened in my life? Would the social discrepancies of my youth be covered as a whole?
Several thoughts and questions tortured me for many days, sometimes at the office in the vast ward of Afonso Arinos of the Senate other times at the Aparte of Melia confort, where I lived on my arrival at the Federal Capital. Day in and day out I tried to find the correct line of my reflections and statements that I would write in my first work.
I convinced myself that I should write my personal histories that I had experienced, of course, I would analyse the causes of certain recurrent emotions. But most importantly it would be an intellectual traveling where I would describe everywhere I had been subtlely and giving all the details.
As I sat down to write the book for the first time, it was as if I were going back to the deepest past of my life. On the twelfth floor of the hotel at a table in front of the window, at the same time taking a look between the “Explanada dos Ministérios” and on the screen of my computer, I recalled my father´s stories. He used to tell them holding my little finger from my right hand and he used to stay by my side for several hours until I could sleep deeply.
I recalled the face of each friend of mine from my troubled childhood in the suburbs of a humble small town in which I grew up.
For an instant I saw my grandmother by the grapevine picking up grapes for dessert after lunch on saturdays and my sister testing dozens of samples of perfume that our mother used to sell to support our family. All of these memories, and all my uncertain theories seemed to be imature and almost premature. However, I resisted a lot to expose my life in a book, at last my past would be shown like oranges on a street-fair a past that always brought me doubts and even some embarrassing situations .
Not because this past could be particularly painful and even cruel many times. But because talks about things and people, contrary to a conscious choice that I´ve made to the effect that they differ and contradict themselves to the world I live now. At last all the autobiographical work: runs the risk to make the events more beautiful in favor of the writer, that to a certain extent it’s normal because we always try to show the best aspects of our personality, our virtues come first and our faults we generally live for the others to find them out on account of their own.
In a few moments for sure I should have added some beauty beyond the normal in one or other passage, placing a greener tree where there were only dry branches.
Some characters of this book are those people who have kept company with me in situations of my life, many of them aren´t alive anymore, others remain im my memories of the past, obviously many events are not correct cronologycally, with exception of my family, public, and political persoalities.
In truth I tried to write in this autobiografy, memory of whatever maybe its lable, an honest account of part of my life, followed by frustrations, dreams, accomplishments and especially love.
My friends whom I have collected for all of my life was a source for the inspiration of this work, for this reason and to them I dedicate this book.
In january 2003, I started planning in my mind, how would this book be? Would it be totally clear of everything that had happened in my life? Would the social discrepancies of my youth be covered as a whole?
Several thoughts and questions tortured me for many days, sometimes at the office in the vast ward of Afonso Arinos of the Senate other times at the Aparte of Melia confort, where I lived on my arrival at the Federal Capital. Day in and day out I tried to find the correct line of my reflections and statements that I would write in my first work.
I convinced myself that I should write my personal histories that I had experienced, of course, I would analyse the causes of certain recurrent emotions. But most importantly it would be an intellectual traveling where I would describe everywhere I had been subtlely and giving all the details.
As I sat down to write the book for the first time, it was as if I were going back to the deepest past of my life. On the twelfth floor of the hotel at a table in front of the window, at the same time taking a look between the “Explanada dos Ministérios” and on the screen of my computer, I recalled my father´s stories. He used to tell them holding my little finger from my right hand and he used to stay by my side for several hours until I could sleep deeply.
I recalled the face of each friend of mine from my troubled childhood in the suburbs of a humble small town in which I grew up.
For an instant I saw my grandmother by the grapevine picking up grapes for dessert after lunch on saturdays and my sister testing dozens of samples of perfume that our mother used to sell to support our family. All of these memories, and all my uncertain theories seemed to be imature and almost premature. However, I resisted a lot to expose my life in a book, at last my past would be shown like oranges on a street-fair a past that always brought me doubts and even some embarrassing situations .
Not because this past could be particularly painful and even cruel many times. But because talks about things and people, contrary to a conscious choice that I´ve made to the effect that they differ and contradict themselves to the world I live now. At last all the autobiographical work: runs the risk to make the events more beautiful in favor of the writer, that to a certain extent it’s normal because we always try to show the best aspects of our personality, our virtues come first and our faults we generally live for the others to find them out on account of their own.
In a few moments for sure I should have added some beauty beyond the normal in one or other passage, placing a greener tree where there were only dry branches.
Some characters of this book are those people who have kept company with me in situations of my life, many of them aren´t alive anymore, others remain im my memories of the past, obviously many events are not correct cronologycally, with exception of my family, public, and political persoalities.
In truth I tried to write in this autobiografy, memory of whatever maybe its lable, an honest account of part of my life, followed by frustrations, dreams, accomplishments and especially love.
My friends whom I have collected for all of my life was a source for the inspiration of this work, for this reason and to them I dedicate this book.
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