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The Kite

My first kite was made by my uncle, my mother's brother, when I was four or five years old.
Nostalgic & Passionate
| 04 April, 2020 |

My first (and perhaps only) kite was made for me by my uncle, my mother’s brother, when I was four or five years old. I don’t have many more memories of him, actually, I have another one a little stranger, in which we are both, one summer, in a house in San Bernardo, amazed, or at least I am amazed, in front of a bucket full of clams about to become a marinade to take away as a gift to friends who had stayed in the city.

Apart from the bucket of clams, I said that my first and perhaps only kite was made for me by my uncle, with that paper so light and so fragile that I don’t remember its name (will it be used for anything other than making kites?) and with some canes cut in half. It always amazed me (and today, in the distance, it amazes me even more) that so little was done, so little was done, that something so cheap provided so much time for fun and pleasure. Because not only do we enjoy the moment to fly the finished kite, but also, and perhaps even more, I remember the moment to build it. Maybe it’s just an idealization and what I really miss is spending time with my uncle, building things, generating memories.

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