José Araujo de Souza
It didn’t take much effort to go back two decades in a second and enter my grandparents’ house again. Where I spent my childhood and youth. It didn’t take much effort to enter the old Dutch straw high chair room, exquisitely braided with art and taste, where I put my body lolled while listening to old stories of people I didn’t know while looking at the old portraits. of ancestors who looked at me from within the frames with their cold eyes, which even today I do not know if they were curiosity or disapproval for the disrespect with which they faced them or were not at all satisfied with their pallor of unretouched portraits yellowed by the past time. It didn’t take much effort to climb the spiral staircase and reach the townhouse where my room left there still seems to be waiting for me with everything I had, which was not much but it was also not small because it was enough. As if my room knew that I would fly there and find again the heat that I left us there on an afternoon when the sun reflected on the window of the bus on which I was traveling happy to leave everything behind that today I miss so much. Right in front of my room, my grandparents’ room separated only by the narrow little room with the old oratory inheritance left for many generations according to my grandmother with her saints and the baby Jesus in the manger. At the head of the bed on the side that belonged to my grandfather the revolver Smith & Wesson 38 long barrel still in the holster and the old Laport carbine that I was so afraid of when I was a child leaning against the corner of the wall that faced the square. It didn’t take much effort to get you there with me by my side as we walked slowly through the room surrounded by old objects from the time of the early republic that I knew had been used by my grandparents’ grandparents who had a big farm there on the sides of Alegre , do Castelo, Conceição do Castelo in Espírito Santo. It didn’t take much effort to know that it would have been much better if I had you with me at that time when I was walking and running around the house doing my pranks there with the fervor of an artist composing his most beautiful concert of sounds that I still hear in mine today. dreams. It didn’t take much effort to go back and be there at the time with you in my mind.

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OPERAÇÃO MUTUM is a political fiction whose actions take place in Mutum, a small town in the interior of Minas Gerais, in the 1970s, during the Military Government constituted by the so-called Revolution of 1964. The facts narrated in OPERAÇÃO MUTUM, as well as the characters that parade in its more than two hundred pages, they are products of the author’s imagination, although the places mentioned are true. Historical events are real and of public knowledge and / or based on sources cited in the narrative. OPERATION MUTUM presents a mixture of fiction and reality and its main objective is to entertain the reader using a clear, simple and easy to understand narrative. Any similarities identified by the reader with characters mentioned in OPERAÇÃO MUTUM will have, with absolute certainty, a mere coincidence.


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