This morning, we started to hang the pictures up around eight. A rasta man came looking. I asked him if he had children, yes I have a son, but he probably won't be here. I said that we only miss two children. He said: "My son doesn't like school, I tell him you have to learn to read and write, but he likes to be outside." I continued and the man stayed. I asked for the name of his son and I remembered the name. He said I will find him then. I let the man be.
He went away and came back. We talked about his son again, he was worried. Afraid he would grow up without proper schooling. He just can't learn. I said all children have some talent. He said he likes the outside and he likes to fish. I said that being a fisherman is a good life.
Then he said he coukdn't find his son. He pointed at one picture and said he might look like the kid on that picture. I took offmthe picture and looked at the back. It was him.
The man started to cry. He said "thank you". I said monday we give the paintings back to the children. He said I want to have it. I said it belongs to your son.
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