[...] Over time, that boy who was sceptical and strange, because he liked to carry water in a sieve. Over time he discovered that writing was the same as carrying water in a sieve. In writing, the boy realised that he could be a novice, a monk and a beggar all at the same time. The boy learnt to use words. He realised that he could make shapes with words. And he started to do things. He was able to change the afternoon by pouring rain on it. The boy performed wonders. He even made a stone bloom. His mother watched him with tenderness. His mother said: My son, you're going to be a poet! You'll carry water in your sieve all your life. You'll fill the voids with your perversions, and some people will love you for your purposelessness. Manoel de Barros.