João blinked. “Carranca barely understands the concept of ‘walking.’ But I’ll try.”
The silence was thunderous.
João Pacífico was not a lucky man, but he was a persistent one. He lived in a small, crumbling house on the outskirts of Taubaté with his fat, lazy donkey named Carranca and a rooster that only crowed at midnight. He had a heart of gold and a pocket full of holes. filme mazzaropi