Poor kid!
This child has obviously seen more than his share of a hard life. I can't imagine, sitting here in the comfort of my home, how hard. I can however, imagine how easy it will be when he is older, how he may ally himself to someone who offers him better, or at least hope. I am beginning to understand.
Peace,
Fiona
This poor child. Everyone should have a life as good as mine.
Afghan, I read your profile as to what music you enjoyed. There is a song sung by Bobby Darin I think you might like. It's called, "Amy." It's posted below.
Amy, soft as the April snow
Amy, lovely as indigo
You only kissed me and paradise smiled
And the man was a child
And the wind blew so wild.
Amy, here’s what I’m tryin’ to say
Love me ... if only for today
Let me know April and indigo blue
And let paradise smile for me, too.
Wow! That poor little guy's hands show you how hard his life is for him.
My impulse is to reach out and grab his hands and put vasoline on them. Of couse, that can't be done.
Would it be helpful for people here to send gloves to Afghanistan for this little guy and others like him? Let me know on my blog, OK?
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"Small shepehrd in central part of Afghanistan"
The exploding expressiveness of the picture has left me speechless.
shepherd is correct
An immigrant on your land... Ever crossed your mind? Take a moment dear reader, just imagine yourself walking on the streets of your own city and being bullied and insulted by your fellow citizens as if you were an outsider.
Have you ever waited in a line to buy a piece of bread for hours and once your turn comes to buy bread someone kicks you hard and sends you back at the end of the line?
Have you ever felt your government does so much for others around you and when it comes to you, they dont see you?
In the streets of kabul Hazaras wake up earlier than any afghan citizen to get to the market to move huge, back breaking sacks of flour or rice from one place to another place for a small change. They leave markets later than any citizens of kabul and get back to their families, but their existance have never been noticed by any...
That and thousand more are the story of me, my dad, my fellow hazar. as vincent goghan said"
There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passer-by see only a wisp of smoke coming thru the chimny, and go along their way"
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