coffee no. 13
Yesterday I saw a reportage of eleven-year-old boy. He and his poor family (unemployed parents, two sisters, two brothers and the grandmother) live in an old, devastated house, without running water. Moreover, they have only one room, full of furniture and scattered, predominantly broken toys.
It's the beginning of December. Everyday after school the boy gives out leaflets, helps people in cleaning their houses, and only sometimes fishes with his friend.
All the earned money he spends on food for his family. Except a couple of coins that he hides deep in his pocket.
On Christmas Eve day, early morning, he counts this change. Next he goes to the market and buys a box of cookies. The cheapest cookies in the world. At home he arranges them in seven equal heaps and after that puts into the small bags.
In the evening the whole family stand beside the Christmas Tree with these gifts in their hands. And with happiness exploding in their eyes.
It's the beginning of December. Everyday after school the boy gives out leaflets, helps people in cleaning their houses, and only sometimes fishes with his friend.
All the earned money he spends on food for his family. Except a couple of coins that he hides deep in his pocket.
On Christmas Eve day, early morning, he counts this change. Next he goes to the market and buys a box of cookies. The cheapest cookies in the world. At home he arranges them in seven equal heaps and after that puts into the small bags.
In the evening the whole family stand beside the Christmas Tree with these gifts in their hands. And with happiness exploding in their eyes.
posted by lorretine at 6:18 PM
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