In This World Of Ours,

I'm Attracted To Soccer's Capacity For Beauty. When Well Played, The Game Is A Dance With A Ball.

And One Fine Day The Goddess Of The Wind Kisses The Foot Of Man, That Mistreated, Scorned Foot, And From That Kiss The Soccer Idol Is Born. He Is Born In A Straw Crib In A Tin-roofed Shack And He Enters The World Clinging To A Ball.

For Sailors Who Love The Wind, Memory Is A Good Port Of Departure.

Each Person Shines With His Or Her Own Light. No Two Flames Are Alike. There Are Big Flames And Little Flames, Flames Of Every Color. Some People’s Flames Are So Still They Don’t Even Flicker In The Wind, While Others Have Wild Flames That Fill The Air With Sparks. Some Foolish Flames Neither Burn Nor Shed Light, But Others Blaze With Life So Fiercely That You Can’t Look At Them Without Blinking, And If You Approach You Shine In The Fire.

I Remember That - You Know, I Didnt Receive A Formal Education. I Was Educated In The Montevideo Cafe, In The Cafes Of Montevideo. There, I Received My First Lessons In The Art Of Telling Stories, Storytelling.