This is where my friends work

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On my way to school I bought a brioche with cheese.

(Getting sandwiches in little stalls is fun because what it's going to be wrapped in is always a surprise. Oh, a magazine ad from the '80s! Oh, a thai newspaper clipping! Today it was an invoice from sonatel)

And this barefoot kid asked me for some chocolate. "ak chocolat, aussi." we split the brioche three ways with one of his friends.

I can't believe the things that are normal to us now. Barefoot talibes hold empty tomato sauce cans outside the gas station and beg for change or ask for gifts. "Maay maa cent francs, maay maa cadeaux."

They follow you out of the parking lot, they stick their hands in your car windows. I gave one of my bracelets to a kid outside the grocery story and his friends started pulling the rings off my fingers.

When it gets to be late afternoon and they know they haven't collected enough money but it's almost time to go back to their marabouts, their hopeless faces remind me of being seven and wailing in uncontrollable, raging helplessness for absolutely NO REASON.

They're never ever crying, though. They're not the fragile little porcelain things sobbing down the grocery aisle because they didn’t get the brand of cereal they wanted. There's nobody to cry to. I'm sorry I can't help you.