To the Boy Who Lost His Father to the Drug War

It was eight o’ clock in the evening along Taft Avenue in Manila when a street child was going around each store to ask for food, if not for some coins. He was thin, muddled, and soaked in the rain. He approached me with the usual demand, “Kuya, pahingi naman ng pambiling pagkain.” (Older brother,…

Little Angels in Need of Hugs

There are many reasons for every baby’s cry. In that moment I witnessed however, I was quite sure it was because of pain. The child lay on the crib face down, with a white cloth wrapped like a chain binding his two tiny hands. It kept him from scratching and bleeding his skin, which was…