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Solitaire Player's Handbook Summer Reading

Chapter 1:2, solitaire games on children: the invisible friend

"... The end of the invisible friends often tragic or pathetic. Death or neglect are often the ways that their invisibility is made evident.'s death, such After the last game, it becomes a family event. Parents and siblings are informed of the death, and details are known causes in which the creative power of the child exceeds the level of their normal appearances. Sometimes death serves to enforce the actions it is founded: the hatred of a younger brother (he was the one who killed the invisible friend), suspicion about the treatment provided by a maid (the person who lives in my house but not my family, she has thrown away my friend), fear of a parent (...) these feelings would not be justifiable in the mind of the child, without a death involved, or without mediate what the child says that is death. Forgetting a
usually invisible friend embryonic create a sense of nostalgia. One day the boy discovers that long ago does not play with him. Try again times together, for a couple of days brings to mind, submit it to his brothers, talking about it. But the routine hides again until the final oblivion. Because the child feels, and unwittingly discovers that he forgot the invisible friend can no longer remember, since it is now another. So with this insidious death, invisible friend dies and dies with him his creator. Was this helpful invisible friend, then, to cushion the violence of the first death of the person. Perhaps, then, do not treat this case of death of the invisible friend but of its merger with the visible ... "

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The other evening, in the marathon of readings and new technologies applied to the concept of literary gathering, organized by the kind people inside the company Tamariscos , read this short story. The idea was to present a text that had something to do with the theme: summer. I dove in My Documents, y. .. eureka!
I sat on the chaise, had a projector behind me with 'the letra'-songwriters because we are now, or literate. So I just dedicated to creating music with a box of musical and human voice.
A story a bit odd, with a touch of humor that pacoquis who live here try to remove jumping from all over the press 'delete'. Let's see.


winter not know


Jonah has a rare disease, your body can not stand the cold.
His mother told me: "I still remember the doctor: 'you must not know the winter." So said. Jonah was two months old, was present when the doctor diagnosed him ... and never talked about it, but I think that must agree: it have perfect pitch. "
Jonah has absolute pitch and the front teeth poking out between his lips - as if they were the ones that draw a mouth on her face. Jonah's hair color wood, and should not know the winter.

" After two months ... "I said. She broke the instant coffee in a small cup, when he spoke was to raise his voice to be heard above the rhythmic rumble of tiny spoon-Jonah heard the sound from your room and instantly recognized him.
"Yes. I thank God that I had in October. "Answered and continued beating. The kettle was added to the conversation also thanked God, apparently.

In October of this year, twelve years after that October, Jonah was installed in my home with his mother. Living together: here during the summer, and the United States, too.
Jonah and his mother came to this house at the same time when we installed the camera system security: a camera constantly scans the front door, through a channel can see what happens there, if we want. Jonah is often wanting.
Jonah has a rare disease, should not know the winter, and spends hours watching television-all, silent, watching the Channel that shows what happens in the front door. Jonah has

perfect pitch and, some say, is autistic. His mother is quick to clarify: "is not autistic, is unsafe." Has in his closet, muscular, shorts and sandals, and in the wall of his room, the poster of a beautiful woman: not naked, has a fur coat.

happened in January, and my turn to discover, all who were in the house turned over to the sun terrace. Was it fate, I do not like the sun, "there really was something else I liked nice. I entered the room of Jonah, looking for a book he had borrowed.
The air conditioning was the most - the temperature was -2 C. Jonah
was lying on his bed, covered, and covered with an overcoat. It was cold, yes, and her eyelids were withered petals. In addition, the book he had given: a story of Gogol.
The TV was turned on: A dog walks-walking-dogs-era black and white. It was his conviction

:
should not know the winter. And his redemption


know Summer's winter.