Читать книгу Yago's Heartbeat - Conchita Miranda - Страница 16

My old friend had barely disappeared from view, when suddenly the small,

soft hand of a child, with its nimble and slightly grubby fingers, plucked me away from that gloomy scene. He blew and blew on my shell. “What a pretty one!”

he thought, and put me in his pocket.

When he arrived home and picked me up again, he saw my little hole and

said to me, “Wow! You’re different, like Yago. You have to meet him.”

And that’s how I ended up hanging around the neck

of a little boy called Yago.