From a friend of mine at Pikpa.
She gets it.
Big M is the grandmother of Little M. Some people stay very briefly at Pikpa, they stay for longer. I want to make contact, although the language barrier makes me shy. It’s morning and there is not much going on at Pikpa yet. Offering coffee is easy in any language. I make a coffee for Big M, she asks for my tobacco. Big woman in beautiful dress and headscarf rolls a cigarette.
Small M looks at pictures on a phone. I join her watching a little boy at a fountain, a family in a house, a smiling man on the street. Big M takes at the phone, she wants to show a video.
It is her son, his eyes closed, blood on his face. A cloth is put over him.
We share a moment in the morning, the sun, coffee, a cigarette and a heartbreaking story…
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