Every January 28 my childish memories come back to those unforgettable days when I met the author of "The Golden Age". He was able to decipher the story of the man told by his houses, and to whom Nené Traviesa touched his heart stood up in front of a huge literary volume that she could not understand.

This was José Martí and although I mentioned him in past, his literary legacy is projected unconditionally towards the future, instructing and sustaining children's talent.

My mother who was a great admirer of Marti told me again and again that it was necessary to read to know Pilar, the one of the pink shoes, and to learn to be disinterested as she was with the poor and sick girl.

Also to meet Bebé, the nephew of a pompous uncle who lived pending of the appearances and that discriminated the humble ones and to which the little one faced him giving his saber to his humble cousin showing value and justice.

I still remember my first doll whom my father named Leonor, as well as Piedad's black doll that was given to her by her parents, and whom the girl cradled telling her again and again: "I love you even if you have only one braid, I love you because they do not love you. "

Dad read me with fervent love this story included also in the formidable book written for all the children of America and through which the Apostle, suppressed all racial differences, putting up the brotherhood, taking as paradigm the human values.

This January 28 the Marti that I met in my first years of life, grows to multiply hopes and distribute dreams to the childhood of the entire planet, while I, with the candid muse of my memories, honor him, declaiming his verses, narrowing his warm hand of prophet, soldier, friend, father, wise and loving man.

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