My father was a great believer in sea-bathing during the summer months. And how I loved those outings to the seaside at Olinda near Recife.

My father also believed that the best time for sea-bathing was before sunrise. Difficult to describe my sense of wonder as we boarded an empty tram in the dark in order to reach Olinda before the sun came up.

Even although I had been to bed, my heart would stay awake with sheer anticipation. Feeling terribly excited, I would jump out of bed just after four and awaken my sisters. We would dress quickly and leave without breakfast. Father believed one should always bathe on an empty stomach.

We would walk through the dark streets shivering in the early morning breeze. Then wait for the tram to arrive. Until at long last we could hear it rumbling towards us from a distance. I would sit right on the edge of my seat and begin to feel happy. Crossing the city in darkness brought feelings I would never again experience. Inside the tram itself there was more light as dawn began casting its first rays upon us and upon the world.

I looked at everything: the odd person on the street, the journey through the countryside with animals to be seen everywhere. ‘Look, a real pig!’ I once exclaimed, and that cry of ecstasy became a family joke and thereafter my sisters would often tease me by calling out: ‘Look, a real pig!’

We passed magnificent horses just standing there in the fields, waiting for dawn.

I do not know about the childhood of others. But this trip to Olinda every morning gave me such happiness. And helped me believe in future happiness. My capacity for happiness was unfolding. And amidst the unhappiness of my childhood, I clung to this daily trip as if I were travelling to some enchanted island.

Dawn broke inside the tram. And my heart would beat faster as we approached Olinda. Having finally reached our destination, we jumped down and headed for the bathing-huts, trampling soil that was already a mixture of sand and weeds. We changed in the huts. And no body ever flowered like mine as I stepped onto the beach in anticipation of what awaited me. The sea at Olinda could be dangerous. The water was shallow for a bit, then there was a sudden drop of at least two metres.”

There were other people there who believed in bathing before sunrise. And a lifeguard who, for a pittance, would accompany the women into the water. He would stretch out his arms and, supporting a woman on each arm, he would protect them from the strong waves.

The smell of the sea penetrated and intoxicated me. Seaweed floated on the surface. I can see just how difficult it is to express what that sea-bathing on an empty stomach meant to me in terms of pure life as the pale sun rose on the horizon. I become so emotional that I cannot write. The sea at Olinda was salty and rich in iodine. And I did what I would always do: holding my hands together in the form of a shell I would plunge them into the sea and bring some water to my lips. I drank that water each morning, in my desire to be united with the sea.

We never stayed for long. Once the sun had risen it was time to leave, because father always arrived early for work. We dressed quickly, our clothes impregnated with brine. My hair was matted with salt.

Then we stood in the wind, waiting for the tram arriving from Recife. Back inside the tram, my hair soon dried out, caked with salt. From time to time I would lick my arm to taste that thick coating of salt and iodine.

We reached home and only then did we have our breakfast. And when I remembered that I would be going back to the seaside next morning, I grew solemn at the thought of all that adventure and good fortune.

My father believed we should not shower immediately with fresh water but insisted that we allow the effect of the salt-water to work on our skin for several hours. And I was always reluctant to take a shower which would wash away the salt and iodine and remove all traces of the sea.

Who can restore that happiness? How can I renew that sensation of radiant innocence beneath the crimson glow of sunrise? Never more?

Never more.

Never.