Ivan, an old incorrigible nostalgic man, was moved by their affective lacks and he looked for in his lost childhood, friends' faces that the time had turned off. He tried to tie the links of the past to a present filled of dreams and inexplicable searches. He was an old one dreamer always in search of somebody distant and it tried the re-meeting to remind with a lot of longing, what had been back.

His wife always recriminated him for that strange habit of being seeking old friendships, that the time obstinately didn't leave that the encounter was executed.

- Let to leave of such nonsense, my old man. The people don't like to be inconvenienced for an old one crazy, that insists on living in the Past.

- I am not living in the Past, I would just like to find my friends of childhood.

The old ones are always like this - they despise the present and they try to live of distant memories, because they fear the future and your unexpected uncertainties. Nobody knows, when the end of the walk will happen, for the sidewalks of the life. Then the escape for a past of memories and longings.

Ivan walked behind a friend of childhood, Eduardo, that marked his adolescence and the artistic tendency a lot that for both he began in that time. The scenery of that friendship is the old neighborhood of the Vila Prudente, in São Paulo, where they were born. Ivan lived in the Rua Ibitirama, there very close of the Avenida Zelina and Eduardo in the Rua Cavour, beside the Baptista Church, in the same neighborhood.

Dreams were interlaced, Ivan and his habit of doing theater and movies, with the boys of the neighborhood and Eduardo and his incommensurable love for the Music.

- And I want to be a great actor, of those famous ones, that we hear in the radio novels, I already began getting ready for that and I need your help.

- Your mother, she should not find romantic you to dirty all the sheets of her, for

The house is always flood and the pork of coins, more and more heavy, with the sell of the entrances.

It was the sign of artistic careers, that were evidencing there, in that small corner of the world. Nothing could impede that the dreams were sowed and they rendered in the future.

Eduardo, a square driver's son, wanted to be musician, a famous violinist. His father Jacob, to the opposite, wanted the son to go mechanical, a very convenient profession for the father, that would have somebody in the future to repair his auto.

The fights were inevitable, constant beatings, ear pull, shouting and a funny no conformed, forced to be a thing that didn't want and to work in Mr. Nicolau's mechanics, a Russian immigrant, his father's friend, that opened a workshop, well close to the boy's house, in the old neighborhood from São Paulo, redoubt of the largest Slavic colony of São Paulo.

- That shit that idea of my father. I don't want to be mechanical!!! I Want to be musician!

It was shocking to observe the boy's soiled of grease hands, replete fingernails of dirt, but when he played violin, hidden of the father, he got to overcome that soiled vision and to transport their listeners to a magic world that the music only gets - the trip of the dreams for the imaginary.

Eduardo was no conformed with the paternal demand and he didn't get to understand because the parents, in a general way, choose their children's future professions, in an inhuman incoherence; but as every rule has an exception, the boy had a big one allied, Eugênia, his mother, that secretly shared of the dreams and the boy's longings and when the father leaves to work with the taxi, she said:

I already spoke to him and it is everything arranged. You begin to study music, but not you should release Nicolau's mechanics, because your father distrusts.

- Don't worry, leave that with me, I will try a scholarships for you. Today, Teacher Giovanni wants to hear to play him a little and later he solves.

Eduardo, began like this, a long career with the instrument that when falling in their hands, it started to do part of his life - an old violin, bought with a lot of sacrifice by the mother.

The teacher, owner of the conservatory was dazzled with the boy's talent and it decided to grant him a free scholarships and he was not sorry, therefore Eduardo, along many years of study, he became a great violinist (spalla -first violin) that the orchestras philarmonics knew and he arrived coming in countless auditions in the whole world. His last presentation in the exterior was in Russia, in the Theater of Moscow. Nicolau lost his mecanic, but the world won a fame violinist.

Ivan always visited the friend and he motivated him to play. He liked to hear him and the one that more him enchanted they were the famous gypsy music that in the violin (a magic instrument) transported him to a distant past, in the old Russian steppes, where the gypsies played, they sang and they danced to the sound of old songs.

- Upon my soul, Eduardo, you play so beautiful that am hispid. The gypsy music does to remind the histories that my mother counted of their Russian ancestors and of

her father Antonio, old gypsy, that sang in those wandering coaches that they traveled the old Russian steppes. My grandfather was a nomadic artist and I want

To the nine years of age, the two boys separated, because Ivan and his family changed for Cidade Dutra's neighborhood, in Interlagos, where your stepfather Alexandre bought a house and after that, the boys never again will meet.

It was behind those memories that Ivan sought the friend Eduardo, now separate for the time, distant and very difficult of being found. Where would the friend be? What country had welcomed him to hear him to play violino? The time is implacable and it doesn't allow the people to meet to not to be for some coincidence of the destiny.

- Why don't you search begin him in your old address? Inquired the wife trying to help him.

- I was already there and nothing advanced, his father died and the rest of the family changed the house and nobody knows about anything.

- But Ivan, you should not give up, because who seeks finds. You said that him was playing in Philarmonic Music of the State, then, we will attend the auditions of that

- And me no longer I thought about that? Even e-mails ordered for the conductors and musicians, but them they ignore my messages.

Ivan knew that was an useless care, that desire of returning the origins and re-meeting the lost friend in the time.

- Won't I lose the hopes, some day encounter Eduardo, just as I found Marisbel, do you remember him?

- Of course I remind when you called him, saying that was Ivan, friend that didn't see there is him more than thirty years. And the poor man was very afraid.

Marisbel, was an old friend of childhood, they lived together many years playing soccer in the amador soccer, where they were consecrated as amateur goalkeepers. Marisbel didn't try to become professional in that sport, because he decided to study and he was formed economist, working until retiring in a from São Paulo state bank. Surprisingly, his son, was goalkeeper júnior of the São Paulo Futebol Clube. Did other friends also get a fright, when did they receive phone calls of Ivan, after 30 or 40 years of absence, to say just " hello ", or " how are you? Connections with memories with more fifty years.

Eduardo continued being an exception. It was difficult to find him and the search continued. Where would that afraid boy be, what did of the father pick, just because he did like to play violin? At least, it seems that the father was sorry in the day in that he attended the son for the first time playing in an orchestra, but the destiny apply inexplicable pieces.

One day, in a last attempt, Ivan accessed the site of the Order of the Musicians of Brazil, sending an e-mail. The answer was not made to delay, it fell as a bomb!

According to information, don't officiate, in the beginning of 1997, the orchestra came to play here in the coast and him it took advantage of a rest, to walk at the beach and he ended up dying drowned.

Ivan, looked at the emptiness of the space and a stubborn tear of longing ran for his tired face. The wife understood his pain and she hugged him in silence and they were like this for some moments, in a seedling homage to the musician, that certainly, on that moment, he was playing violin in the celestial skies.

The onlooker of this whole history is that Ivan sought for the friend in the four corners of the world, through Internet, without knowing that he was in a very close city of the place where Ivan lived (São Vicente) and that if he was alive, certainly is would be found.

Now it doesn't remain anything else, no longer it will be possible to hear the beautiful gypsy songs in the magic violin, that it became silent with the boy's death, being the instrument abandoned, sad and solitary, in any corner. His owner left for the superior walk, assisting a call of the Divine Conductor, to play in Philarmonic Celestial - an eternal violinist's beautiful and tender touch.

- Eduardo Szwec, my dear friend of childhood, accomplice of our infantile pranks, rest in peace and be sure that one day we'll meet again and I hear your magic violin again...

Notices of the author: It is with a lot of emotion that swift that longing homage to Eduardo Szwec, my friend of childhood. It was impossible to contain the tears, to the knowledge of your death, like this so tragic, but we should adjust to the designs of God!

I also take advantage of to thank to Mr. Ronaldo of Silva Gutierrez, of the Order of the Musicians of Brazil, for the given information, without the ones which, that story would not exist.

(Story published in VIII Anthology International Words in the Third Millennium - Publishing Phoenix of São Paulo - pages 92 to 97).

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