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Twelve days have passed since I returned to my home. It was two years without seeing Estrada Do Pasto Grande, two years without seeing my father hanging clothes on the clothesline, two years without going out for an açaí bowl with my mother or going to the beach to see old friends. Two years without what I understand as home.

I lived in exile. This exile brought me a lot of growth, maturation, desire to grow and sincerity with myself. Most crucially, this exile allowed me to watch my world from the outside and realize how much I miss it.

Suddenly, before I could become aware of the situation, this exile was over. It ended in a very different way than I imagined.

Despite everything, I didn't have time to be sad, because as soon as I set eyes on the richness of my home, I remembered the life I had here before all this. I remembered the things I used to complain about, things that now seem tiny in the face of the story I've already written.






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