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There was a thing I wanted to write of. But indeed the impressions faded for it’s been weeks since it happened. But anyway.
On a lunchtime I went to a clinic were we both are observed to run some test. It was one of the hottest days, and 13.00. The asphalt was melting soft so my hills stuck in it. And right then I had noticed a pair of very thin, scratched legs in big ugly and completely worn out boots I haven’t seen since my childhood. Soviet style. The legs were … on a side of a road. In few steps I discovered that legs belonged to an equally thin body of a boy, who was laying unconscious. Somehow it was obvious the boy is young, may be 16 or 17, no more. And that he’s intoxicated with something like alcohol or drugs or other stuff they use to get high (some toxic glue I heard). And it was obvious, he’s homeless and he’s degenerated. Nevertheless it was a pain to see him laying there, half of the body on the road, at such a heat and people just pass by. I stood there and didn’t know what to do. Some guys who passed by noticed me standing there and came closer. One came to the boy and tried to kick him with his boot. The boy neither move or moan. But he wasn’t limb, he was alive. I asked if they could move him… but guys were neatly dressed and the boy was filthy so they refused to. But one of them called ambulance from his mobile. I bought water and poured it over the boy’s head. I needed to run for I had an appointment at doctor's and felt so guilty I couldn’t do anything.
It took me no more than 15 minutes to get back there from the doc’s. Somebody did put the boy in a shade, but still, too close to the road. The boy was sitting awkwardly, head hang between the knees. An ambulance passed, with a nurse staring out of the window. I came to the boy and tried to give him some water. He looked at me with big whitish watery eyes, very little of understanding in them. He had a thin scull, so thin you have impression the eyes are on either side of it. There obviously was something abnormal in his face, that made me wonder whether it comes from genetic mistake or due to the life this boy had after he was born.
This thought made me desperately want to cry. I imagined this boy little, new born. Left in a hospital by mother. Never ever loved a slighted minute in all his nearly 17 years of life. Never. He was always an abuse. First to mom, than to a state, represented by orphanage the boy was put in. Then by everyone on the street: people who feared and despised him, police who hated him…
I thought why he was living? And may be we shouldn’t help him? Should let him die and end his misery?
But suddenly a voice from behind asked: ‘have you touched him’? I said ‘no’. A man came to a boy and said: ‘he’s our regular client’. The man was an ambulance driver. A nurse, a very young and shy girl stood with big eyes, observing “the client”. I asked if the boy was on drugs, and the man said ‘no, he’s drunk’. But then said to me seriously: ‘OK, lady, let’s go to a car for disinfection. Who knows what you get from him’. I slowly repeated I didn’t touch the boy. But then the driver laughed at his good joke and complained that people always call ambulance when they should call police. Then he asked the boy: ‘do you recognize this lady? is this your mama’? And the boy, who sat motionless all the time, looked at me and smiled. The word ‘mama’ got to him.
I felt sick and on the verge of crying. I needed to leave. Last thing I heard was the driver commanding the nurse to bring the boy more water. I guess that was all they did for him.

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