And that’s how it all began…
The first stories I heard were told by my father’s mother, my grandmother Eunice, whom we affectionately called grandma Nicinha.
She lived in a beautiful house in the neighborhood of Encantado, Rio de Janeiro, with a facade of very small and colored pieces of glass and pebbles, which looked like diamonds at night.
We were three granddaughters, and grandma used to call us the Risoletas, because she constantly changed our names. The school holidays were always plenty of jokes and picnics in the yard. We used to play children’s theater in the house’s great basement, where grandma also sewed the clothes for our dolls. And before going to bed, she used to tell us many fairy tales.
Grandma had to tell all the stories many times, and when she didn’t know what else to tell, she invented them. We listened to each story with great attention and curiosity. There were princesses, stepmothers, witches, dwarves, castles, and hovels. Joys, sorrows, surprises, fear, and fright filled our imagination.
My father always encouraged me and my sister to have access to literature and arts, offering us several books and taking to libraries, and these were universes we unveiled together. And he always offered his support for my very first drawings.
At school, the teachers were always encouraging me to the development of writing and reading to enjoy the magical and playful universe of literature.
My childhood was full of literary experiences, a time during which I discovered several authors and lived the adventures of each book, immersing myself in the stories and their characters.
And since then I knew that writing would be something I would do for the rest of my life!
And that’s how it all began…
The first stories I heard were told by my father’s mother, my grandmother Eunice, whom we affectionately called grandma Nicinha.
She lived in a beautiful house in the neighborhood of Encantado, Rio de Janeiro, with a facade of very small and colored pieces of glass and pebbles, which looked like diamonds at night.
We were three granddaughters, and grandma used to call us the Risoletas, because she constantly changed our names. The school holidays were always plenty of jokes and picnics in the yard. We used to play children’s theater in the house’s great basement, where grandma also sewed the clothes for our dolls. And before going to bed, she used to tell us many fairy tales.
Grandma had to tell all the stories many times, and when she didn’t know what else to tell, she invented them. We listened to each story with great attention and curiosity. There were princesses, stepmothers, witches, dwarves, castles, and hovels. Joys, sorrows, surprises, fear, and fright filled our imagination.
My father always encouraged me and my sister to have access to literature and arts, offering us several books and taking to libraries, and these were universes we unveiled together. And he always offered his support for my very first drawings.
At school, the teachers were always encouraging me to the development of writing and reading to enjoy the magical and playful universe of literature.
My childhood was full of literary experiences, a time during which I discovered several authors and lived the adventures of each book, immersing myself in the stories and their characters.
And since then I knew that writing would be something I would do for the rest of my life!
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