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Jorge Parada One winged angel

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“- Do you know what an angel with one winged is called?- I don´t know! But I don´t know what a child with an extra wing is called either!”

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Page 1: One winged angel

Jorge Parada

One winged angelO

ne Winged Angel tells the story of an angel that

cannot fly because he only has one wing on his

back, and in order to find the missing wing to fly,

he starts to travel looking for it. Wonderful!!!!

It is during this trip when he finds other people that are also

looking for something missing in their lives and that is what we

see in every chapter of the book: several meetings which show

us a great range of abilities and differences that make the reader

think and feel in an emotive way that lets us receive well the

background message.

One winged angel is an educational and instructive book with a

clear underlying message and very appropriate from a teaching

context.

It is a perfect reading for Families, Schools and most of all, for

sensitive and emotional people.

“- Do you know what an angel with one winged is called?

- I don´t know! But I don´t know what a child with an extra wing is called either!”

9 788494 179280

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This is not

just a book.

This is a gift

from destiny

for you

Este

no es un libro,

es un regalo

del destino

Este

no es un libro,

es un regalo

del destino

Page 6: One winged angel

AuthorJorge Parada

Artistic DirectorJorge Parada

Illustration, cover and inside Patricia Ballesteros Amat

TranslatorMaría Bach

Pintor Sorolla 22 3A46002 – Valencia – Spaininvitrodesign.com

I.S.B.N. 978-84-941792-8-0

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One winged angelJorge Parada

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Imagine

the soul as if it was a beautiful

bird and our body, its cage.

Imagine a beautiful bird inside

a cage and he cannot sing.

He couldn´t feel himself to be a greater prisoner!

The author.

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Chapter 1.

Birth

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12

W henever I look at the belly of a pregnant

mother, I can grasp the meaning of existence.

For in life there is life bearing itself yet another life,

streaming forth like a cord, a continuation of ourselves,

spiraling into eternity.

Lying inside the warmth of my heart, I would imagine

cities and amusement parks. It was then, thinking of

playing when I thought of flying my kite....and suddenly

there was a belly and then there was a sky and sun, sun

what shone so brilliantly...!

Whenever there’s a brilliant sun the clouds are

beautiful.

Playing outside those cities and parks, I noticed that

there were clouds in the sky which captured my

imagination. When one looks at the sky the clouds

have all kinds of shapes, the kind of shapes which your

imagination can turn into anything.

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13

The why and wherefore of these clouds is the why

and wherefore of this story.

As a mother to be, she felt that her belly was made

of very white, downy, translucent clouds, making

her whole body lighter. Sometimes in her dreams,

she would be afraid that her belly might float away

from her, levitating like the balloons that children

play with in the park.

Finally, it was time for that being to be let out. A being

who from now on would be there with everyone.

His arrival was like opening the windows of a house

for the light to enter, and play and shine its truth

into every corner where the dark that is brought on by

emptiness allows no thing; to be seen.

His parents needed him and he wanted to grow up

joyfully with the magic power of love.

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Chapter 2.

From strange to departure

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16

I t was on that morning when his parents noticed

a physical rarity on the child’s body. On the right

side of his back there was a prominent hump covered

by very fine gray down. Concerned as to how this

might affect their son’s life, they consulted all kinds of

doctors and specialists. None of them, however, could

explain, diagnose, suggest treatment or least of all,

foresee its evolution.

There is no worse anguish for a parent than to have to

wait for a completly unpredictable development.

Therefore, in their deepest love they sheltered him

shrouding their resignation, and the Lord of Time who

knows not of this own existence, quickened his pace.

In a very short time, that gray hump had become a

dazzling wing!

It was very difficult to cope with such uncertainties, as

hard as tucking the child in, making him comfortable,

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17

carrying him around and so many other details. Their

hope for another hump on the other side gradually

vanished like the little clouds that the wind blows away.

One day this little boy, the “ angel of the clear smile”

for so he was called, heard the winds blow nearby.

He noticed that those winds always pushed his clouds

in one direction; to The Garden of Ea -where all the

rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky.

One night as he slept, the sky in his dreams pointed

out a path for him to travel on.

Could it possibly be time to leave?

And it was on that spring afternoon

that he bade farewell to all his

loving friends. His mother felt

that “this time her little

balloon would reach his

highest cloud”, and the

father resigned himself to

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18

the departure and trusted with all his heart in a time

to come which might bring his beloved son his sense

of completeness. Without a tear and with a smile on

his face, the boy left his hometown, a pilgrim on a

chosen path, seeking his own Garden of Ea -where all

the rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky.

Only a pebble in his boot would deter him for a few

moments; he courage and greatness of his precious

being upheld him, as if his effort were meant to last

throughout eternity.

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Chapter 3.

An old man with no hope

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22

A fter a great deal of traveling, Angel arrived at

a village where he came upon an old man with

only one leg.

He cheerfully greeted him courteously.

“How are you doing, sir?”

Somewhat reluctant and ironically the old man

answered:

“Very well, but not very happy; like yourself

perhaps...”

Not understanding very well, Angel asked,

Why do you say that?”

The old man smiled as he leaned on his wooden leg,

and lowered his gaze:

“I see one of your wings is missing.”

As lightly as if someone had tried to knock him down

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23

with a feather, Angel replied:

“That should not be a problem. I am on my way to

The Garden of Ea, where all the rivers stream

into the ocean and the ocean meets the sky, and

where I am sure to come upon it.”

Amid mocking peals of laughter and a great show of

gestures, the reply was:

“You can never recover anything that is incomplete.

I lost my leg once in an accident under a heavy

cartwheel and even if I traveled to the moon I

doubt that I would find it.”

With an expression of utter confidence, Angel stressed:

“I didn’t lose my wing, I never had it.”

To this the old man harshly inquired:

“How can you only have one part without having

ever lost the other?. Like only one eye, one arm,

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24

or those who are lame... do you know what an

angel with a missing wing is called?”

Angel stared hard at the aged countenance, as if he

wanted to see into those eyes that had become so

worn out from looking at the wrong side of things;

“No, I don’t know how a child with one wing too

many is called.”

Vexed, wanting the conversation to end, the old man

replied:

“To know that, you will have to know what you are.”

His mocking laughter still rang out as he went away

from Angel saying:

“Go on to The Garden of Ea. That’s where my leg was

lost.”

Although somewhat disheartened by this encounter

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and with a slightly bitter aftertaste, Angel continued

his journey undaunted.

The road to travel on was hard and it was only by

zeal that his mind could find a reason to justify the

existence of an aged being whose life no longer held

even a glimmer of hope.

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Chapter 4.

The child

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S till on the path, unflagging, he saw from afar a

second village, where to his delighted surprise he

came upon a boy close to his own age. Dazzled by the

beauty and the radiance of Angel’s white wing, the boy

asked:

“Would you let me touch it gently?”

Angel outstretched his wing which brushed lightly

against the boy’s hand as if wanting to touch those

small fingers.

Entranced by this wonderful sensation, the boy

remarked:

“It’s so soft! Softer than the feathers of my uncle’s

pheasant!”

Humbly, Angel just said:

“I don’t think so; they’re probably very much the

same.”

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Still mystified by the encounter, the boy declared,

“I would give anything to have a wing like yours.”

“What would you do with one like it?”

Looking at the sky, the boy stated,

“I would probably just fly all the time and visit

faraway places and float over the clouds.”

Motionless, Angel said,

“I can’t fly; if I had my other wing I

probably could.”

Intently, then,

“If you can’t fly with one

wing, then of what use is

such a beautiful wing to

you?”

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30

A little sadly perhaps, Angel shrugged,

“I don’t know.”

And to assuage the situation the boy said:

“Don’t be sad, I’ve got an eye that won’t cry.”

Angel was intrigued. In a voice that was full of a

gentleness, gingerly, so as not to cause him any pain

by meddling, he said.

“Tell me about this eye of yours that cannot cry.”

Breathing hard, the child replied:

“Whenever I go through a time of sorrow, if I cry,

only my right eye does. I always ask older people

to tell me sad stories for me to be able to cry, but

I have never been able to with this eye. If I were

like you and had one wing alone, and could not

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31

fly... I always could cry with this eye also out of

sadness!”

Undisturbed, Angel replied,

“I have never cried, and I am not sad because I am

traveling to The Garden of Ea to find my other

wing. If you want to join me you will probably find

the tears for this eye of yours.”

The other, gratefully, inquired,

“Won’t my company bother you?”

Angel smiled and took the boy by his hand

as he continued on his way.

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Chapter 5.

The witch

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34

U pon reaching the third village they came upon

a very ugly woman, perhaps even too ugly to

be true or even uglier. Angel addressed her politely as

he introduced his friend, explaining.

“We are on our way to The Garden of Ea, I, to find

my wing and he to find his tears.”

Devoid of all expression, she snatched Angel’s hand

and whispered into his ear:

“If you wanted to, I could change the boy into your

left wing, but one of his eyes cannot cry, so your

wing might not be able to fly”.

Angel drew away from her at once, not understanding

her attitude and sharply replied:

“I would not change my friend for a wing even if I

were able to fly with it!”

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36

Like a wild beast that has lost its prey, the woman

whirled around to the other boy, whispering:

“If you want to, I can turn your friend into tears for

your eye, but as he only has one wing, chose tears

might not let you see when you cry”.

He threw her aside in disgust:

“Angel is my friend, and the only hope of finding my

tears. I would not have him changed even if my

tears allowed me to see”.

And the woman who was really a witch disappeared in

a flash.

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Chapter 6.

Living puppets

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40

T he two boys’ hands locked in a firm clasp as if to

seal a fraternal pact.

They continued on their journey pausing every now

and then for a moment’s rest and to drink some water

under the shelter of a shady tree, until they came upon

the fourth village. They wandered all over if and were

perplexed to find no one, Angel mused.

“Where could they all be?”

The boy was bewildered:

“Perhaps they’ve gone to Ea”.

Drawing from the experience gathered throughout his

travels, Angel’s reply to his friend was,

“Ea is not a place within everybody’s reach. It is

different and not easy to find. To get there, you

must possess great strength of will together with

a spiritual purpose that will provide you with the

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41

guidance for that search”.

“I needed you to find out about Ea. How will others

be able to know?”

“Maybe it takes feeling strange...”

The boy: “Do you mean very sad?”

“No. Sadness is probably only feeling devoid of

something precious to us.

But if we have not actually lost it, then the feeling may

be too deep for us to understand what we really feel”.

Understanding, the boy agreed:

“Then I think my problem is sadness. When it rains

my eye hurts from trying so hard to imitate

the raindrops. And whenever a raindrop does

enter my eye, it breathes like the plants and the

trees and the flowers do under the touch of the

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42

raindrop’s cool water. I can feel my eye missing

the wetness of that little drop inside my chest,

tearing my chest apart to let the sadness out.”

In resignation,

“No, not all of it.”

They were suddenly surprised to see a brightly lit

signpost that garishly announced a live puppet show

in the town’s main theater.

They quickened their steps and came upon a lot of

people lining up to buy their tickets. ( Possibly all of

the townsfolk.)

The last one in the queue was a father who said with

courtesy and respect:

“Good afternoon.”

The man looked at him and believed that he would no

longer be the last in line. He pointed upwards to the

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little girl who cried out:

“Hallo! I’m Rosemary. Look how tall I am.”

The girl, who felt that she was on top of the world’s

highest mountain and under the protection of her

father’s shoulders pointed out with her little finger,

the one we use to point at things,

“Who is that?”

With a smile Angel replied:

“That’s my friend; he’s

coming with me to the

Garden of Ea.”

The man pretended that

he was uninterested,

“That’s far? I prefer

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44

waiting for the performance. It’s sure to be more

fun”.

Angel’s friend was amazed at all this.

“It must be a wonderful show to attract all these

people”.

The father cast his eyes downwards and with some

diffidence responded,

“We don’t actually know. It’s the first time it has

come to town”.

The two travellers felt their confusion increase;

“Have you been waiting very long?”

Then the man feared that somewhere within that

already marred little body further damage might take

place:

“For many years; but some people have been here

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45

longer. I am the last one as it took such a long

time for me to make up my mind. But I finally did

and am happy about it as I will bring my little girl

immense joy and lessen her suffering. She is not

a normal child in the sense that she has not been

able to walk since birth, and is happy to wait on

my shoulders”.

Ready and willing to be of assistance in whichever way

he could, Angel’s friend invited them to join them

on the path they had set out on.

The girl would probably be cured in the Garden

of Ea and avoid the long wait.

The man was doubtful but he replied gratefully,

“I was the last in deciding to join this line. I

cannot let this chance go and waste any

more time by leaving. I am sure that this is

the great show I am waiting for”.

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Chapter 7

The teacher

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48

T hey said goodbye and kept from looking back

so that the pain caused to them by such a sorry

sight would not be so great.

While they hurried, Angel remarked,

“I felt we were the only ones who were really seeing

the show. Fortunately, The Garden of Ea really

does exist”.

Taken by the girl, the other boy replied,

“There were moments when I could not keep my

eyes off her, even if it meant that I would have to

be the last in that long line. If there is anything

beyond the Garden of Ea, I will certainly return to

be at her side”.

Angel seeing the sweetness in the boy’s thoughts

knew that his friend would find the tears that were so

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49

precious to him and that he so very much wanted.

They continued on their journey, through the rain and

through the cold, across flooded paths and reached the

fifth village. As they entered they were struck by the

cleanliness and neatness which was all around them

and as they breathed, the air was familiar to them and

their souls were filled with sensations.

“What are these children doing out of school at class

time?”.

“But Ma’am”, countered a bewildered Angel, “my

friend and I are travelling to the Garden of Ea”.

“By no means!”.

She provided a school desk and two chairs, pencil and

paper and other school material, then told them to

wash their hands. The child stood firm in defending

his goal,

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“We are very grateful to you, ma’am, but our course

is The Garden of Ea”.

With the voice of authority the teacher answered,

“There is no one who can keep you from that

course, but first things come first, you must know

your lesson well”.

The teacher’s class began with the following words:

“Knowledge is fundamental so that we can

distinguish ourselves from the rest”.

“But ma’am, we have already been to school”, Angel

pointed out.

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51

With the authority of one who knows, the teacher

replied,

“If you have been to school and know the lesson,

please tell me what The Garden of Ea is”.

Both boys were staggered upon realizing they shared

the same beliefs.

“I don’t know. Angel told me that it’s the place where

I will be able to find the tears for my other eye

and where he will find his missing wing”.

The teacher’s next words were voiced very slowly,

“We always feel that all our questions will somehow

be answered, but the answers are only within

ourselves.

The place you call The Garden of Ea, where all the

rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky, is

a symbolic place. But is does, however, exist when

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52

the right path is chosen with a visionary spirit, with

joy, with perseverance and with humility. I found the

Garden that you seek right here, and that you should

now know this is a great satisfaction to me, as my

mission is therefore fulfilled.

You see, I could not live in a garden of Ea other than

mine...”

With eyes of infinite tenderness and authoritarian

bearing she rang the bell...

“Children, collect your things and be on your way.

Class is over”.

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Chapter 8.

Special performance

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56

A nd in an elation mingled with so many questions

they resumed their journey. Once more

on a path no easier than the ones before, physically

exhausted, they came upon the sixth village, which

looked like a huge tent.

A little man with a green ticket book in his hand stood

at the entrance, offering them a ticket and promising

them the best of shows.

“Please take the tickets and be sure not to

lose them; at the end of the show we will

hold a raffle with two fabulous prizes”.

“We have no money to pay for the show:”

“That should be not a problem. You are the

only and most awaited of spectators, so

hurry up, the show is about to start”.

Angel was greatly excited. He saw the lights

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57

turn on and a great stage appear before him.

The other boy’s eyes were wide open, in fact, as wide

open as his mouth was. A band of deaf musicians

performed for them with strains and melodies so

sweet the like of which our pilgrims had never heard

or expected to hear.

Suddenly the spotlight fell on the centre of the stage

onto which the master of ceremonies stepped to

comment on the feats the players were about to

execute.

The bewildered spectators understood what was being

expressed, although it was only through signs the man

made with his hands.

The man was dumb!

How could they hear his words when these lacked

all sound?. But the magic in the movements of those

fingers conveyed a meaning of almost unbelievable

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depth to their souls.

A light of deepest emerald green focused on the main

actor “Minus”, a child who, with only two movements

of his head like an autism, poured forth feelings of

unequalled wealth.

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59

Each pore of his skin emanated dreams of beauty,

his every look and breath displaying the candour of a

celestial being who was expressing his thanks to life.

But where were the sounds, sights, gestures and

movements?

All of the spectators were physically disabled, some

couldn’t walk, others neither seen or hear, nor speak,

nor applaud.

When the show was over the master of ceremonies

announced that among the tickets there were two prizes

and that the winners were a boy and a half-angel.

They were congratulated for winning such a fantastic

prize. Angel knew that he had far more blessings than

that to count:

“What do the prizes consist in?”

The euphoric answer to this was that they would now

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become the troupe’s new members.

“You, Angel, will fly with your only wing, and you,

boy, will cry with your eye that has no tears”.

Angel, who felt confused and at the same time flattered,

expressed his gratitude.

“All of you are wonderful and to be here with you is

like living the most beautiful dreams in reality, but

we cannot accept, as we choose to continue on

our search for the Garden of Ea”.

The master of ceremonies said:

“This is the Garden of Ea and we offer it to you”.

Tearfully, moved to the utmost, Angel embraced them

warmly and decided it was time to leave.

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Chapter 9.

The arrival

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64

T his is how the hardest of departures began, a

road as difficult as the others and perhaps the

longest.

“Angel, my feet hurt. Could you carry me for a

while?”

Angel, also exhausted, mostly from having to put up with

his heavy wing’s constant weight, tried nevertheless to

carry him, but the boy found his energy again inspired

with this example and continued, steadfast.

“I should have stayed in the tent; I felt a little tear

sprout from my eye”.

Angel, delighted, asked him,

“Do you want to go back?”

“No, I’ll continue to the end. After all, I want lots of

tears for my eye”.

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They made out the seventh village, in a lush

green forest of great trees and small

cabins, smoky chimneys, gardens and

fresh fragrances.

The first person they met

as they walked into the

village was an artist, who

was deeply stirred by the

presence of these two

visitors and invited them to

his studio. Angel was happy to meet an

artist and asked him ,

“Is it pleasing to be an artist?”

“More than that. It is a feeling of such great

emotion, that it can only be released

through our work”.

On entering the studio, the boy,

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66

whose eyes were on everything, asked,

“Why is one an artist?”

The artist looked within himself and replied:

“The abundance of feelings that dwell within oneself

and are released through art are so vast that

this is the only means or possibility by which

to express them. It’s as if the soul were the

interpreter of the works”.

The other boy who was still closely looking at all the objects

around them, suddenly stumbled across a picture of such

beauty, that on seeing it, Angel stood as one transfixed,

mesmerised, and with a joy so intrinsic, cried out,

“SHE’S THE ONE I’M LOOKING FOR!”

Without knowing, Angel had begun his long pilgrimage

for this meeting.

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The painting showed a lovely girl with a wing on her

left side.

The artist cried out;

“This is my daughter, and she is here! My prayers

have been answered!”

He pointed out the path on which he would find her

gathering flowers and looking for the inspiration for her

poems.

Angel, holding fast onto his friend’s hand, ran as

he had never run before.

He saw her as soon as he entered the forest.

There she was. Right there.

Already breathless he came up to her and took

her hand. Both of them were unaware of

the fluttering of the boy’s eyes, who, on

seeing a sight of such awesome beauty,

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68

began to cry. And the tears that flowed from the eye

that could not cry became an unquenchable stream,

the abundance of which made it unending.

He had understood that his eye that would not cry

would not do so out of sadness, but out of the depths

of a great and overwhelming emotion On which was

joy.

Find your Garden of Ea and you will find the purpose

of your life. If there is anything you lack, there is

something you have too much of .Then find someone to

share it with.

Find your Garden of Ea!

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You have finished this winged book and I want to thank you for

sharing this wonderful journey with me. Other gentle stories are

waiting for you on my website www.jorgeparada.org

You can contact me here and find out about all my work as well.

There are plenty of messages waiting for you to discover.

You can also continue to receive Jorge Parada´s thoughts

and reflections on our Facebook site www.facebook.com/

jorgeparadaautor where you will find other sensitive readers

willing to share their experiences and emotions after reading this

story.

Jorge and I invite you to keep flying with us.

This journey has not finished yet...

Angelo & Jorge

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This book was finished the 2nd july 2013, while feathers

rained down on the city.

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Jorge Parada

One winged angelO

ne Winged Angel tells the story of an angel that

cannot fly because he only has one wing on his

back, and in order to find the missing wing to fly,

he starts to travel looking for it. Wonderful!!!!

It is during this trip when he finds other people that are also

looking for something missing in their lives and that is what we

see in every chapter of the book: several meetings which show

us a great range of abilities and differences that make the reader

think and feel in an emotive way that lets us receive well the

background message.

One winged angel is an educational and instructive book with a

clear underlying message and very appropriate from a teaching

context.

It is a perfect reading for Families, Schools and most of all, for

sensitive and emotional people.

“- Do you know what an angel with one winged is called?

- I don´t know! But I don´t know what a child with an extra wing is called either!”

9 788494 179280