FROM STREET CHILD TO AMBASSADOR! I would not like to start writing this simple tribute by quoting a Biblical text, however it is impossible not to do so because the work of God, This Supreme Intelligence, Primary Cause of All Things, is public and notorious. ISAIAH 43.13 Even before there was day, I AM; and there is no one that can escape out of my hand; If I act, who will stop it? The street boy that we will try to summarize his story and his sad trajectory, in fact, it was already written in God's Plans, that he would have to cross the Desert, suffer, learn, mature and develop innate abilities to later present himself to Society as such. which it is today. A tempered man in the arduous leader, but endowed with an enviable intelligence when it comes to the suffering experienced in childhood, resulting from the accident and prolonged coma. Even so, without realizing it, he seemed to absorb in his spirit one of the Maxims quoted by Jesus speaking in silence in the acoustic box of the soul; JOHN 16:33 - “In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world”. THE SAGA OF THE LITTLE STREET PRINCE Once upon a time there was a boy called Celso Dias Neves. Celso Dias Neves, was born on the 28th day of June 1955 at 1:15 pm in the hospital and maternity ward of Brás São Paulo, son of Consuelo Dias Neves and Carlos Dayton Neves, paternal grandparents Olavio Bastos Neves and Irene Weber Bastos Neves, grandparents maternal João Dias and Ricardina Rodrigues, part of my childhood I lived in São Miguel Paulista, being enrolled in the first year of primary school at Colégio Carlos Gomes, studying there for 90 days, until the teacher gave me a note to deliver to my mother, out of fear I hid it for a long time, until I was summoned by the teacher, then I was forced to take my mother with me to school, I was shaking like a green stick, the teacher asked me to calm down and told my mother that she would request my transfer to Colégio Dom Pedro II, because The school I was at was my intelligence years beyond my years. To get an idea of the level of Colégio Dom Pedro II, for each place there were more than 200 students competing, I was introduced by the unforgettable teacher Neusa to the students, the first day at that school I was super shy, I was already shy by nature, it took more than a week to let go and fit in. I lived for years on Rua Oscar Pedroso Horta, number 25, from my house to school, it was a half-hour walk that I enjoyed my life, as on the way I met my classmates, on the way back I went in the opposite direction, passing behind the Matrix of St. Michael the Archangel. 1964 came the revolution with it many prohibitions, a fervent Catholic, I attended mass on Sundays on a day like any other I made my way back home, as I passed behind the church I heard a loud noise from a FAB H1 helicopter, a helicopter fanatic I stopped and I saw it slowly descend towards a dirt soccer field, it was half past noon, it landed and I was asked by the pilot to leave while two officers went to the church, the pilot told me to leave, I wasn't going, he the stubborn kid, it took a long time, until the officers returned with the priest, I noticed his face with his head lowered, he boarded the helicopter, I asked him where he was going, he was silent, they activated the turbine with the doors closed, when I knocked on the door I felt something bad it was happening, crying I saw him take flight and the priest was never seen again. In Vila Pedroso, where my father lived, he was well known, a political activist, a staunch Janista, he made friends very easily, until he was invited to be director of Olaria Futebol Clube, and to get to the field and the club headquarters, you just had to go down Rua Xingú , cross the line 10 minutes walk, there my father began a new stage of his life, revolutionizing the club, giving it life, it started with dances, carnival and little by little he placed the club in the second division, his presence at the club was remarkable . A spiritualist by conviction, he worked at home twice a week serving the public, until he lost control and began to descend all kinds of spirits from the heavy left, one day the news arrived that he never expected, he lost his job, with that came the loss of control from home, without a job for months, he started drinking a lot, he attacked me and my mother for nothing, in the early hours of the morning even without him calling, the violent left-wingers would come down and drink a lot, in the early hours of the morning they would ask for pinga and send me out onto the street with all the shops. closed to find cachaça, it was on the corner of the street where he lives and Av. São Paulo Rio, six o'clock in the morning Mr. Manoel's bar opened to make coffee for the first customers and there he would get the pinga and return home, still incorporated, he would get because it took so long, I witnessed horror scenes, my poor mother couldn't stand standing up because she was so tired she was putting up with insults, this went on for a long time, my mental health couldn't take it anymore, I wasn't the same at school, one day I arrived so tired that I don't know where I got it from