Life is funny or in my case, reincarnation is funny.

One day you wake up, and while you eat breakfast, you decide that as soon as you get home from work, you will do something about the pile of dirty clothes piling up in your chair.

And when you're leaving work, after another productive day looking at memes on the internet and sending emails to seem like you're doing something (Brazilian corporate life at its best), a colleague invites you to have a beer.

The choice between washing clothes or drinking a beer is basically the simplest choice in the world. And since you're only going to drink one beer and go home, you'll have plenty of time to wash everything.

And most important of all, how would I know he was having marital problems? And to make matters worse, he kept asking for drinks, and as a good co-worker I had to keep up.

Also, the guy was younger than me, and was married with two kids. Not that I wanted to be married, but it makes you wonder what you're doing with your life, and to answer that, you need to drink some more.

But then you look at a guy who is scared to go home and confront the wife he does not love anymore, and is afraid of getting divorced because of the kids. The pile of dirty clothes looks increasingly sexy.

Summing up a long story, I picked up an uber pool that left me a good distance from home, forcing me to walk two blocks. A car hits me and I die cursing the fact that to save some change I ended up dead.

In fact, my last moments were focused on how in life I was a hypocrite coward and that if I knew I would die young, I would have done things differently.

This basically means that my cowardly behavior would have been worth it, if I had died of old age. Better stop thinking about it, positive thoughts, positive thoughts.

And to rub salt into the wound - I am an atheist - I met two gods who took the forms of corgis, to better communicate with me. I think that means several things about my personality, but I prefer not to think too much about it.

Basically, they said that I would be reincarnated in a new world and that one day they would ask a favor for me. Stopping to think, something similar happened at the beginning of the movie Godfather.I should have said something cool like "Brazil made my fortune" or "I came to the Corgis gods to ask justice for my daughter". But I only had these brilliant ideas well after the fact, story of my life.

I'm probably still in Brazil, in a clinic for psychiatric treatment, in a cushioned room with no sharp objects.

-Nestor, stop staring at nothing and come help me.

A middle-aged man, wearing a blacksmith's apron and whose attempts to conceal baldness are proving unsuccessful, stares at me. Sighing, I straighten my apron and continue to sweep the floor.

The blacksmith's apprentice job is simple, I have to clean the workshop and carry things. So far I have never picked up the hammer or come close to the furnace without intending to clean it. When I asked when I could start working as a blacksmith, I was informed that I had to learn to walk before running.

Positive side? I never get cold, thanks to the furnace. The workshop is like a sauna. After sweeping and carrying heavy things for no apparent reason, because according to the bald man, hard work builds character.

Since I've been doing this since I was reincarnated two years ago, my character must be pure granite by now. What to my poor mind does not make the slightest sense, and when I mentioned it to the bald man, I got a slap in the face in return.

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Leaving the workshop, I begin to stretch my arms as I look at the village or would it be hamlet? I do not know the difference between the two. I miss Google.

Anyway, I'm looking at a collection of houses made of wood and bricks. None show the slightest order or logic.

People seem to just build what they want. But each house is basically the same, a shack with a bedroom and space for a garden, where the family grows some fruits and vegetables.

In my house we also have a room that serves as a workshop. We could say that we have a flat (laughs in São Paulo).

My body hurts, I'm too old for manual work. By the way, I'm not sure how old I am, I think I'm 11 years old, give or take about two years.

-Nestor come and help me in the garden.

A middle-aged woman talks while working in a garden with a teenage girl. It's incredible how the people in my house refuse to let me relax for even a few seconds.

Sighing again, I pick up a hoe and go into the garden. I find it rather unfair to make a 11-year-old work so hard. I think I did more manual labor in two years here than thirty on Earth.

After wiping the sweat from my face, I look back at the village / hamlet. We are on an island that is called Tatuí, the village / hamlet has no name or if it has one, I was not informed and nobody uses it in casual chat.

Calling village/hamlet is annoying, let's just call village from now on.

My family group is formed by the bald man, Roberto, his wife, Natali, the younger daughter, Rita and by me, Nestor.

I mean, the former owner of the body I inhabit had the name of Nestor. Apparently he had some kind of infection with a high fever and I ended up with his body.

I try not to think about the fact that I probably killed him by taking over the body. To this day I feel like I'm wearing some kind of costume, it's strange to explain when your body seems to be wrong. Like a very small shirt that you put on anyway.

Taking advantage of the fact that my family group is distracted looking the other way for some reason, I jump the fence and run to the forest that surrounds the village.

On Planet Earth, I think I went camping once. When I realized I had to sleep in a sleeping bag and did not have wi-fi, I gave up trying to camp ever again.

But here? The only place I feel at peace is when I'm in the woods alone. The island is small and does not have large predators, some snakes, but nothing that makes it too dangerous to spend time among the trees.

A place I do not have to worry about people realizing that I am an impostor, where I can cry without having to explain why. A place to have solitude, in a culture that does not understand the expression "personal space".

After walking a little, I look around me to make sure there is no snake and I sit on a tree stump and try to relax. Which always proves difficult, for some reason I cannot stay without worrying for more than a few moments.

As I reflect on how stressed I am, for a guy who lives on an island forgotten by the Corgi Gods, I hear the rustle of branches. My first thought is to run back to the village. But the tedium of months with nothing new and the fact that I know there is nothing very dangerous on the island, makes me go look.

Behind some trees I see a white deer that somehow managed to get stuck under a fallen tree. But the fact that he's stuck is not the problem. I'm sure there are no deer on the island, where did he come from?

And I'm pretty sure there are no white deer, well, until a while ago I was an atheist, so I guess if there are gods that take the form of corgis, the existence of a white deer would not be so special.

Well, I think my diet of fish and vegetables will gain some red meat, or is venison white meat? No matter, I'm going to eat something different, and now that I stop to think, I really want something other than fish.

I take two steps toward my dinner and while I reflect on how I'm going to kill him, since I have no knife with me, I look into his eyes. Machado de Assis said that the eyes are the door of the soul, if he is correct, this deer only has despair in his soul.

I stop and breathe, I really want to eat something different but…

-" You're scared, huh, stuck in something with no chance to escape, at the mercy of powers you do not understand."

I look sideways to see who said it, and I realize the words came out of my mouth. The deer stops moving and looks at me, the despair of the eyes gives way to a lint of hope.

Maybe I'm seeing too much in the situation.? Trying to create a parallel between me and him, to prove to myself that I am not alone in my despair? I'm going crazy, sighing again - I need to stop sighing so much - I lift the tree that's holding him.

He jumps up quickly and runs off as fast as his paws can take him.

"You were waiting for what? That he'd magically start talking and become your best friend forever ?"

Okay, I'm talking to myself now. One more sign that I’m losing my mind, little by little.

Shaking my head, I head back toward the village and the usual meal. As I walk, I swear that the next time I see that deer ...