we cross the road at the traffic light being ever alert that everyone is actually going to stop at the light and checking for bikes. we pass men having a break from work. they all stare in wonder at his blonde hair and try to touch him, not caring that he glares at them and quickly runs away. they laugh. we pass the men playing a gambling game. they squat down on the ground coins in hand, little pieces of torn cardboard for playing pieces.
across from the school there is a park with benches and landscaping. areas to sit and relax. in contrast, in the front of the school we wind our way through the people waving metal tins at us. shouts of hello, hello. deformed limbs and slow minds. sometimes we give a bit of something to eat, a package of bread, an apple, but today, of all days i have nothing.