Every day, after sitting under the sun, pelted with scorching heat begging for coins and crumbs of bread to survive. Later on, we stagger home, gather together to eat what little we have.
We sat down there, and I held the storybook, I read to them.
Day after day I did.
You see, we had no family but ourselves, and as the day went, we had to leave the small house we lived in and moved on the streets, begging to stay alive.
Some days, we looked through the bin for leftovers, other times our containers were filled with coins that never rounds up to anything, not to even buy a loaf of bread for all thirty of us to eat, other times, we all had to sleep on an empty stomach.
But every night, we sat on the cold earth, and I held the storybook in my hand, and I read to them.