I have never seen so many happy children. In Madagascar I didn´t look at them because it was painful and I felt extremely ashamed of myself.
But here I love them. They all are so happy, so alive. They play together in the streets, they are dirty and they scream, and scream!
Here where I live there are three children. The older boy in a teenager, the young boy is 9 years old and he just started learning French at school, so he greets me screaming BONJOUR or the verb être every-time that he sees me; and then there is the little girl. She is 4 years old, a little devil that sometimes I would love to chain to a chair to calm her down.
Every-time that I come back home, there is a friend at the door screaming her name and calling her to play outside. And this is what these kids have more than a lot of other children: they really know how to play. They don´t have toys, they have each other.
The little girl just has two stuffed animals and she is a happy kid. She plays and uses her fantasy.
These are real children, these are simple children, these are dirty children. And they are beautiful.