Se asomaba sobre el muro para contemplar las estrellas. Era su única fuente de libertad en medio de aquel desierto de soledad y miseria. En su bolsillo, guardaba celosamente el guijarro con forma de corazón que le diera su madre al salir de su tierra. Y conservaba intacta la esperanza de volver algún día a contarle todas sus aventuras.
—¿Qué miras Enrique? —preguntó Gladiola, acercándose al muro, llevando a su gata en su regazo.
—Trato de contar las estrellas —respondió con un suspiro— , mi madre siempre me decía que las contara en las noches despejadas, y cuando tuviera un número exacto, entonces estaría listo para recorrer el mundo entero.
—Pero es imposible contarlas todas Enrique, son muchas.
—No importa si son muchas, debe haber un número para ellas y alguien debe conocerlo.
—Solo Dios puede conocer cuántas estrellas hay en el cielo —dijo Gladiola con una sonrisa.
—Estoy seguro de eso —replicó Enrique.
Los dos se quedaron mirando el espectáculo nocturno, procurando no llamar la atención de sus captores. Sus cuerpos flacos y débiles, exhibían las marcas de las palizas propinadas para acostumbrarlos a la esclavitud. Pero sus corazones gozaban de una paz que nadie podía quebrantar, y de un flujo constante de ilusiones basadas en las historias aprendidas en las cenas familiares.
Enrique tenía claro su deseo de escapar algún día y volver con su madre. Gladiola, sin embargo, solo anhelaba que su carga se hiciera un poco más liviana, pues no tenía un lugar al que ir. Su mundo se circunscribía al patio amurallado de aquella casa, y a las calles del mercado donde presentaba su acto para recaudar monedas.
—Enrique, ¿me llevarás contigo cuando te vayas de aquí a ver a tu mamá?
Enrique la miró con tristeza y sorpresa. Ella mantenía la vista fija en el cielo.
—Por supuesto, jamás te dejaría sola aquí con tu padre. Vendrás conmigo a casa, y madre te querrá como a una hija.
Gladiola sonrió al escucharlo.
Las luces de una antorcha les advirtió que los estaban buscando. Era la señal para retirarse del muro y volver a sus catres en el galpón. La mañana llegaría en unas horas, y con ella, la larga jornada de trabajo forzado en las calles para enriquecer a hombres malvados.
Aún bajo la más dura opresión, sus sentimientos seguían siendo tan nobles como los de cualquier otro niño, y sus sentimientos tan puros que les impedían reconocer que serían esclavos en ese lugar, por toda su vida.
Gracias a estos testigos por su apoyo constante y orientación, ustedes merecen un voto de confianza: 
He looked out over the wall to contemplate the stars. It was his only source of freedom in the midst of that desert of loneliness and misery. In his pocket, he jealously kept the heart-shaped pebble that his mother had given him when he left his homeland. And he kept intact the hope of returning one day to tell her all his adventures.
-What are you looking at, Henry? -Gladiola asked, approaching the wall, carrying her cat on her lap.
-I try to count the stars," he answered with a sigh, "my mother always told me to count them on clear nights, and when I had an exact number, then I would be ready to travel the whole world.
-But it's impossible to count them all, Henry, there are so many.
It doesn't matter if they are many, there must be a number for them and someone must know it.
-Only God can know how many stars there are in the sky," Gladiola offered with a smile.
-I'm sure of that," replied Enrique.
The two remained staring at the night show, trying not to attract the attention of their captors. Their skinny, weak bodies bore the marks of the beatings they had been subjected to in order to accustom them to slavery. But their hearts enjoyed a peace that no one could break, and a constant flow of illusions based on stories learned at family dinners.
Enrique was clear about his desire to escape someday and return to his mother. Gladiola, however, only longed for her burden to become a little lighter, for she had no place to go. Her world was confined to the walled courtyard of that house, and the streets of the market where she presented her act to collect coins.
-Enrique, will you take me with you when you leave here to see your mother?
Enrique looked at her with sadness and surprise. She kept her eyes fixed on the sky.
-Of course, I would never leave you alone here with your father. You will come home with me, and mother will love you like a daughter.
Gladiola smiled as she listened to him.
The lights of a torch warned them that they were being sought. It was the signal to retreat from the wall and return to their cots in the shed. Morning would come in a few hours, and with it, the long day of forced labor in the streets to enrich evil men.
Even under the harshest oppression, their feelings were still as noble as those of any other child, and their feelings so pure that they could not recognize that they were slaves in that place, for all their lives.
Thanks to these witnesses for their constant support and guidance, you deserve a vote of confidence:
