From my house to the office of Castro Perez. After work, at about five o’clock, no gathering in the pharmacy, no touching to hear Ms. Fernandez. At my house, my poor little house, which seemed like a castle. If anything, and that from time to time, to visit dominoes or chatting with Andrew. On Sunday, back from Mass, to talk to the aunts and Jada, to read and write ….

In the afternoon the courtyard. The maid and I Regab plants, and then we we installed at the foot of the orange. We cut violets and roses, and we amused ourselves in making bouquets, each determined that theirs was the best. Jada used to weave garlands of ferns in which mixed in a marvelous manner. There are variety of them in Villaverde, and in our garden grew the most beautiful. Near the source, where stones and old logs, there were some who looked like feathers, silk ribbons, strips of satin.

Finished the work, ran to hear ladies failure. For my sick were better, for Aunt Pepa Jada were the prettiest. The award consisted of those floral events in a loving embrace of the unhappy old woman, which could only reach out to pet the winner. But there was always a line for the young tender flattery of her lips trembling, at the time incurred by a smile of pain.