forget nothing, not one of the things I have seen.’
Manoel sat up in his bed and continued: ‘There are so many experiences, and the story of my life is so long that I do not know where to begin, or how I can manage to omit nothing that is important. And how could I ever describe the beauty of all I have seen and felt? Surely, man is just to his life when he is about to die, and at this moment all my deeds and experiences seem to me of equally great importance and consequence. It was important that I left my native town, and it was important that I never returned to it, but remained in strange lands; that I was drawn on and on, and that the desire for roaming never and nowhere left me. How could I tell you all that has happened to me? I know every part of the world, all the islands and continents, and all the peoples inhabiting them. I need only shut my eyes, and my mind is filled with visions of which you will never be able to imagine the like; all the songs of this world, all the dances and kisses; all the characteristic towns, curious groves and blossoms, and all the other things of which the world is made up. I should like to celebrate all the women of different countries,
