Last night, on my way home from classes, I saw two little Roma girls, maybe 4 and 6, with dirty bare feet, raggedy clothing, each clutching a paper bag from the bakery. They were sitting in front of a shoe shop, eating and waiting. Then I saw the shoe shop lady talking to them, asking them to move. They stood up and moved a few feet away, waiting there in the rain. I have no idea where the mother was.
I find these sort of sights very difficult to process.
Amy in Mostar 