The fields are present in the environment, in the body and in the minds of these Brazilians. Brazil is big for its own nature, but it seems not to see neither to hear the ones that scream for its greatness.
The daily conviviality between the land workers and their dreams build hope which is maintained only by faith in promises, most of them lost in a land of settles.
What looks like hovel has the qualification of a house. The furniture had been brought of what has remained of a life and it is in the encampments that they construct a new day of expectations, always the wait of lands promised for the new messiah.
The route is the land to plant and the force for spoon. It is in this way that the faith appears as safe dwelling to this people without land.