To three boys in São Paulo ...

I'll never forget you. The three of you crouched at the entrance of the Praca da Republica—giggling. One of you sat on the sidewalk, winding your fingers around your toes. The others huddled under a huge tree. You could have been my own children.

I wanted so much to talk with you. But I don't know Portuguese. Besides, they say the "street children" of Brazil don't really want to talk to strangers.

This is the end of the issue. Ready to explore further?
February 16, 1998
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