He cried, my old father,
seeing the medals that I had conquered in the hot skies of Europe. With pride
he told me that he knew of my heroic deeds, and now that his name, the glorious
lineage of Winningoeses had been fully rehabilitated, he could happily die. I
wished to him a very long life, leaving his medals as consolation of my not
dilatory departure. My books, my studies attended me again, in the United
States, for a new thrilling issue on the walk of truth.
Taking back to my searches I
considered that I had to continue in a forced direction, if it were true, as it
is true, that the brain of every living being contains, even though modified by
the evolution, the original matrix of our existence.
8. to be continued...
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