He went to ask for money, its dirty face outlined by the glass side of the rudder where that day I was driving and his hands stretched suggested understanding.
was about two feet from me, and they were also the two scars on his face, near your eyes and lips, stretched as if they were made by the way, came to the middle of his cheek of some twelve years.
say that their scars are not anyone's fault, what would I know! the reasons so now I am appalled at him, is just a kid! loading in the face of misfortune imposed and tattooed forever ...., who did, as was done?, that child never tell, because they weigh decisions about on, they fear that does not confess.
I caress her face does not seem to feel and I extend a coin and on my way to pass the red light, gives me a slight smile thanks to the tender issued by his voice, his small hand, tanned cold, gives me goodbye and me, gravitating infinite sadness, a tear down my face trying to rush dismayed that face reflected abuses that marked his tender years and unable to defend themselves, supports the tyranny of heartless people.
Ynosotros "?, Have we become cold and only regret that there are facts like these?, Have we become indifferent to others' pain, What we are doing for them ?...., and me, even to write, God! not change nothing, nothing ... I only brought home one of your scars, I put in my heart.
Lucy Martinez
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