My child, today I will tell you a sad story.

It is the story of those from the land without joy, and I am among them now.

The ones who grow up there are many and miserable.

The lands are dry, and the days hold no celebration.

There are great machines that scream louder than people,
and mountains of sand built by hand.
Beneath them, we have lost our souls.

We all learn, always something new.

I have learned to be silent.

You are learning to speak. Look: this is the table, this is the chair, and all the rest. Not much longer now; one day, you will pull on my coat and say: "This is my father."

Life is a ship, my child, and the waves are cruel, but may our sail always remain white...

Happy Birthday, my son,
wishes you, with all
the love, your daddy,
Ion Cristodulo