If this painting were a story, I wouldn’t know where to start, it wants to talk about so many things and at the same time be simple. Simple as the presence you have when riding a horse, simple as a grandfather teaching a granddaughter, simple as a granddaughter reminding her grandfather how it is to be a child, simple as a child riding his cloth horse for the first time, simple as a chicken, simple and exuberant like the neighborhood of Paraibuna. This work was born to live there, in the Associação dos Moradores do Bairro da Paraibuna, a project that has been in existence for 25 years, uniting the residents of the neighborhood, helping with social and cultural services and bringing income to the countryside. One of those projects that you know was born from good hearts. I thank my new old friend Joás for the invitation and especially for immersing himself for a few days in this simple rural life, where the donkey runs away and the boy runs to fetch it, the Angolan chicken is a pet and 80-year-old gentlemen still ride their horses. I don’t know exactly how this story would begin, but I know that it would not have an end point, and that everyone who passes through there can contribute to its continuation…