The boy on the left has no parents because they died in Syria. He is fortunate to have surviving grandparents, and lives with them on the street in a makeshift shelter somewhere in Fatih. The boy on the right is sleeping on the street as well, along with the two girls in these most recent posts. If only I could have spoken with them in Arabic, or been blessed with the funds to hire an interpreter to accompany me while in Istanbul….what a story they must have to tell. It was difficult but I was able to learn just enough from two kind hearted women who stopped to help me understand, a mother and daughter on their way into the mosque who spoke a tiny bit of English and a bit more Arabic. The boy on the left, whose name I never learned, really grabbed my attention with his open, candid expressions and truly engaging mannerisms….a captivating boy in early middle childhood that makes some of us wonder about the nature of good luck, and what force lies behind its seemingly arbitrary and meritless distribution among all of us living in the world.