The children of the world, tormented by the detritus of the modern age they live in. Violence, poverty, sickness, each of them haunted by their nurturing birthplace. Yet the kids manage to have fun, to enjoy the warm beaches of their land, to enjoy each grain of sand as if it were the last one they see, to enjoy every stroke of water their beach provides. The children of my land do not know any better. They go through their youth with bliss, only marred if ever for a second by the tourists or surfers from outside their land.
Noticing the children and hearing their voice express happiness evoked feelings within me, feelings that would have gone unnoticed. I’m tormented by my own demons, demons summoned by my knowledge; war, hunger, crime everything affects me. I envy the beach children, for they posses ignorance and bliss and at the same time I feel sorrow. My country cannot offer any better, for violence, poverty, and sickness haunt them.