In the far west of the South American Amazon, a small village hides in the canopies of lime-green leaves. Just below the branches, where parrots of red and yellow hide, a small stream of water, where the cracks of light in the gaps between the leaves, flows calmly and erodes the dirt away. Lizards violently skitter across crumpled, dry and golden leaves to drink from the eternally flowing stream.
The village of Verdade sits on the side of a hill and sinks into the irregular shapes of stretching canopies. The colours of the houses change the mood of the vast and endless forest. Walls of yellow, orange and pink make up the friendly village, and among the small fishing boats made of a chestnut-brown wood that are docked and tied to the plank platform, sit alongside a large river that carried on for miles until it flowed into a large lake. Full of fish and life, the men and women of the village would travel and bring back the catch of fish to the town hall, where all of the citizens of Verdade gathered and celebrated at a feast.
The feast occurred once a week and the citizens of the small village would buy fish, meat and anything the other citizens had produced during the week at a market. The place was full of life. An old man in his 90s emerged from an allyway and came into the village square by the palm trees. The people's homemade shoes and sandals tapped on the rock-hard earth as they walked across it.
"Rodiguez!" one man yelled from the other side of the square suddenly.
"Hello, Mr. Santos", the old man replied in a friendly manner, "Did you catch the fish you said you were going to?", Rodriguez asked politely.
Mr. Santos burst out laughing
"You've gotta be kidding me, Rod." murmured Mr. Santos, "you had to see the catch today, my boat nearly sank!"
The two friends laughed nearly simultaneously, while Santos gestured in the direction of the port, where his boat was loaded with a variety of different species of fish.
"We'll live off that catch for life..." Mr. Santos bragged.
I highly doubt that..." Rodiguez replied.
"It's an expression, Rod. It's not literal." said Santos.
"I don't understand what you mean."
The two men walked down the same alleyway as Rodiguez had come out of, towards the port. The sun reflected upon the windows of buildings as it sank into the earth and the parrots of colours rise from their safe branches to scavenge for fruits, vegetables and seeds from the leftover or dropped food at the feast.
The parrots of colours screech truthful sounding squawks at the other parrots, calling them over to eat.