A DAY IN THE EYES OF A HOMELESS CHILD
One Sunday afternoon, I met a boy who asked me not for money, not for food, but for home. He looked slightly dehydrated, his hair disheveled, eyes sunken like it carried the weight of longing for his childhood realms. He obviously was alarmingly underweight, there were several cuts and abrasions written on his lower extremeties, a subtle manifesto of the many battles he braved from the dangers of the dark alleys and cruel pavements. He appeared way older than his age, and sees life in an entirely different perspective from children his age who gets to celebrate the comfort of their homes. He seemed a little perplexed. Probably thinking of ways to get by. Unlike other homeless who live with their families on the streets, he was alone. He had no one to share the misery. He had to go through rough days alone. He had to desperately seek for ways to fill his starving stomach alone. He had to endure sleeping in the damp and cold sidewalk alone. Each morning, he...
