Good day, father Carlos, I am Francisco Herrera from the beautiful city of Cancun in Mexico, I’ve written to you in a couple of occasions, and when I find the time I open your Web page to keep in contact. I’m sending you here this beautiful story I read in a book someone forgot in my office:
HOUSE FOR SALE. Mr and Mrs Martinez suffered from that common sickness that does not allow anybody to feel at home anywhere. There house was beautiful had a large garden, but it seemed to them as ugly as a jail. So they went to a real estate agent to find them a buyer while they began to look for a new house. One day they found an advertisement: ‘For sale. Beautiful house on the riverside, with a panoramic view of the city, ideal for rest, good price. Don’t miss it!’
- This is what we need! Let’s go at once and buy it!
They went at once to the agency, went to see the house… and they found it was their own house.
- But this is our house! And how lovely it is! To think we were going to sell it!
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Chesterton wrote the store of the man who got fed up of his own country, crossed the seas in search of another, saw many lands and many cities, arrived finely at a lovely country with beautiful cities… only to find out it was his own country which he had left. It would seem this happens to many of us.
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