The Pot
It never moves in this pot – said the father with the pot in the hand – but if one day making, arque with the consequences! – this phrase listened to some times when he was boy. The father made the recommendation with such seriousness, that with passing of the time, nor close to the pot it passed. The times had not been few that it looked at for that pot with anger; why it could not catch it? That implicncia was this of its father in relation it and that object? A common pot, of white ware, that did not have nothing of more? It remained of this everything a species of trauma, as well as, an infinite curiosity: what it would happen to it, after all, disobeyed if it and caught in its hands the mysterious part? It remembered the voice of the ancestor because of the recommendation of the pot basically; it was not of speaking very, the old one, was, even though, a solitary man. It remembered the father seated in the room, only, smoking its cachimbo. He was hours absorbed observing bluish smoke; about what it would be thinking? The time passed, married, had children, the old father if was and it never touched in that pot. The pot was now in its house, lying in the deep one of a closet, wrapped up in paper.
Its wife wrapped up the part quickly, therefore it did not want to know of that, after all, was not to be far? It are always obedient to the old father, and even so he did not know ' why ' , he respected its order, or order, nor right wise person. The truth is that always bothered to it, was not possible after this time all still remoer this subject, but it remoa. One day, about the work, thought about the pot when something occurred to it: its father said – Never he moves in this pot, but if one day making, arque with the consequences.
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