It was years ago now and hugs are just a memory.
There were street children in a world called Odessa. Each day there was a mother who flipped a coin:
Her raspy words “drugs or my child? “
Too often the drug addiction won and another child was left as refuse on a moon- lit sidewalk.
With no reform programs for the mothers or safe housing for the children, the children learned to survive in the sewers and under piles of debris .
Young men and women would go between the shadows long after curfew looking for children to help.
They carried satchels filled with sandwiches, blankets or coats.
This team learned to fit in with the homeless that frequented the night. It was the only way to avoid the mafia thugs.
“Wear your athletic shoes and be prepared for anything.” One of the team told me. “Always look for…
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