The appearance of the boy from Africa in 1977 is as current as the persistent crisis of drought in the region of Cyprus. I observe an angel with worn wings, maculated by pain. Hunger exposes circulating veins, hollow bones. The look violates the languor of the body and dares to brave the distance, a reality beyond camera. The viewer sees the child in the concrete and real perspective. The child sees the viewer at the symbolic level. The hunger is stalking the boy whose look is just a wrapper of candour. Besides the decomposed skin, there is the tragic experience of living inhumanly in a superhuman scenario. Sucessive droughts signal the cyclical time of misfortune. Day after day, survival becomes a prosperous vision of future aid. The little boy waits the omniscience of the time. The second in which the unpleasant trouble will be solved. I lean against my pettiness. I'm contemplative. I imagine the dazzling halo of the boy and I analyze my incongruent pain: the less pain. The greatest pain belongs to th boy. The misshapen and ricketies are trampled by strong hands. Intrepid hands which collect the wounds of the boyand take them for themselves. The body is heavy, it stocks the suffering of later generations. Even the cut face is a whining expression. With such projection, Sebastiao Salgado interceded in the scene. He intersected the story of two lives into one photo. Therefore, to provide assistance to such lives is my forgiveness for living so far from them.