Back in 2008 I remembered seeing the street children. Their torn little faces warped with mankind’s solvents, neglect, ignorance and abuse.
There were certain faces I remembered better than others. The boy with the harsh angled face and wild curly hair. And, the boy with the long face with dark sad eyes. In 2008 there was a glimpse of hope in his eyes. He still moved them with a child like mischief.
Today I saw the long faced boy again. I recognised him instantly. Only now his eyes no longer move with child like mischief. They are slow and dull. His face bruised and scratched. He turns his whole head to look at something. He no longer talks in long sentences. His words are harsh and blunt.
“Give me money …”