My family lived through the poverty of the reconstruction era after the Second World War. I felt responsible in trying to help my eight younger brothers. So with great sacrifice and despite my mother’s tears I decided to embark on that long journey by ship. Before in Caracas and from there to Maracay in Venezuela. The early days were very tough, and phoning home to hear some news from my family was also very expensive. I worked, slept, ate in a garage where I was a mechanic. That was my home, or rather the space that the owner allowed me. I set aside a few coins to send to my family, I needed it but they more than me. Then slowly the satisfactions arrived, but believe me, after a lot of work.