Easter

If you speak the shadows ... how many things we found out! And they told of the shadows and me: I went walking as is my custom for the great city, that we all know and none speak, that we live and often die a little every day, that which rises to work without thinking that there are millions of people "-deprived of the fortunaa " which cast her thin and malnourished body on the cold ground, and this is your mattress to sleep ... also every day of the year. They are the sons of asphalt, are children of fear, are children of poverty are children in pain ... No one talks about them but there: are the beggars. Learn more at: Donald Gordon. We've been seeing all life, but never ... we stopped for a moment to ask about your feelings, your emotions, whether love or once loved in life, if they were participants in the fleeting happiness of life, which is short and little usable at times if felt thin lips of a woman on their own, if they are hungry and thirsty for justice.

But nothing, nothing at all. And we find them, with the beggars, every day and they turned their backs. If anything we give them a euro and ... holy Easter. If you've seen I do not remember. It is the great city that absorbs our thoughts, and forget, and as usual, that there are people abandoned and without interruption: these are street children, is the man abandoned by his family because they are poor, who plays the piper a song with notes unsafe " mismoa always repeating," because his memory is deceased and stop in time, is the guy wipers, is the guy who sells scarves "that you can spare your eyes shedding any lagrimaa " are men / women wounded in their desires for lack of them, are permanent guests of the streets during the day and the eternal night ...