Pier and the Jumpstones

By Rafael Estrada

¿Have I ever told you the story of Pier?

Pier was a boy with a mouse nose, dreamy look and hedgehog hairs. He believed he could do anything he set out to be, he was that innocent.

-I would like to jump like the jumpstones, - he said one day, almost without knowing why, loud enough for others to hear.

His mother, Crossbow, smiled as mothers do; spring, his father, coughed as parents cough; and the grandfather shook his head up and down.

All this happened on a sunny morning, when winter was beginning to say goodbye to stony. The grass was dropped to one side and then to the other because the wind wanted it that way.

Crossbow knew Pier's hobby of imagining impossible things. While combing the two rebel swirls, with all the patience of a mother, he asked:

What madness is that of dreaming about jumping, as if there were no ¿jumpstones?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: May 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781071506042

Rafael Estrada

J’ai publié des livres avec Debolsillo, Edebé, SM, Bruño, Edelvives, Espasa-Calpe, 23 Escalones, Les éditions del Laberinto, Babylon, Universal Didactics, Les éditions PG, Final Yayincilik Reclamcilik Sanayitica, Patakis Publications, I-DAUM, Les éditions Piemme, MUZA SA, Bad Company Books et Hubei Childen'S Press. Certains de mes travaux ont été publiés en Allemagne, en ex-Yougoslavie, en Pologne, en France, en Italie, en Grèce, au Portugal, en Équateur, au Venezuela, au Mexique, au Chili, en Turquie, en Corée, en Chine et aux États-Unis.

Book preview

Pier and the jumpstones

Rafael Estrada

Have I ever told you the story of Pier?

Pier was a boy with a mouse nose, dreamy look and hedgehog hairs. He believed he could do anything he set out to be, he was that innocent.

—I would like to jump like the jumpstones, —he said one day, almost without knowing why, loud enough for others to hear.

His mother, Crossbow, smiled as mothers do; Spring, his father, coughed as parents cough; and the grandfather shook his head up and down.

All this happened on a sunny morning, when winter was beginning to say goodbye to stony. The grass was dropped to one side and then to the other because the wind wanted it that way.

Crossbow knew Pier's hobby of imagining impossible things. While combing the two rebel swirls, with all the patience of a mother, he asked:

—What madness is that of dreaming about jumping, as if there were no jumpstones?

—It's no