We offer you here some fragments of the work:

Pag 45: "In a small gap mysteriously arisen between the positions of the merchants, a type is reading for a woman a book written in characters nosu. I suppose that it is a pimo, as they are called his priests. It is seated, with the semiclosed eyes, looking at the book only occasionally, as if he needed to look in the depth of his memory for the meaning of the words that presents the text to him. I observe him from a discreet place. His parishioner is in squatting, with a child to his back, the a little lower head. Both so concentrated on his task that the bustle of the market does not affect them. They remind the confessions to me in the crammed church, where the simple confessional seemed to isolate you of the world.
The pimo begins moving, gets up sparing and there is placed the conical hat necessary for his rituals. With the closed eyes, it staggers lightly. It seems that it is going to fall down. No, it is only the beginning of a dance. It moves with the closed eyes and the head directed to the soil. The legs scarcely separate of the ground, but his body turns about the book that it protects in his lap. His movements are hastening, a murmur goes out of his mouth. While his shabby clothes shine for the reflex of the sun. The murmur becomes higher, his most rapid movements. The old man is like a light in the middle of the market, the people are forming a small circle around him. It turns and turns more and more rapid wrapped up by the constant murmur. Nobody would think that he is an elder the one that dances. His emotion transmits the spectators, who cheer on him whispering in a tone that it is done more and higher. It sounds like a prayer, a prayer that they all know. The old man keeps on turning, trasportado for the sound of tens voices in a strange and dark crescendo. Suddenly it seems to slip up and falls down to the soil. The woman who was consulting his luck approaches him, the multitude disperses in a few seconds."