So many stories, many of pain on the faces, in the eyes, the furtive eyes, the postures, the countenance of the people waiting for their children, just outside the gate each weekday, around the corner
Names unknown, other than Mommy, Daddy, intimate names joyously raised by daughters, sons, with colorful names carrying brand-new artwork, creations to share See their faces melt, change for a moment in the joy of a five year old’s gift, their touch
But so many stories, untold stories, in silence hidden behind their eyes their sunken cheeks, huddled bodies against the cold, against the demons they carry here in the center of the city, the urban melting pot with stories in languages we don’t understand histories beyond our imagination, our dread, if we only knew the stories behind those eyes