Oh dear, I am a homeless I am a victim of authority who is reckless The war had me hopeless It made my life a full darkness How dare humans who dont feel on us Instead they raise weapons on us My dear, my eyes are full with tears I need a one with whom I can share my worries Mom died and Dad with my hand was buried Still I am a child and I need them But who could explain this to those people with fierceness Is our life to that extent cheap Or are their hearts with violence fed Griefness, Sorrowness and oppressiveness In these three word my life is expressed

While I was walking back home recently, I came across Hanadi, a 12-year-old girl, who can always be seen collecting plastic bottles in the neighbourhood. Hanadi's ever-smiling face makes me feel that good is still there in our world. Her smile encouraged me to ask her what she was doing with plastic bottles. When I approached her and asked, Hanadi held the plastic bottles closer and asked me who I was. I felt that she was frightened but I introduced myself and told her that I live in the adjacent neighbourhood. We soon became friends. Then I asked her where her house is and if I could meet her...