It’s foggy November morning, I open my eyes. My brothers are right next to me in small basket with purple blanket underneath. Blanket is filthy as we all are. Children of the street.
Even thought we do live next to one old house, they don't give us much attention. We get some food once a day, maybe twice and it's mostly some meat with potatoes or bread. We sometimes get milk on mornings. It's that kind of morning today.
I don't remember my mother, either my early childhood. She comes from time to time, but she hasn’t come for a while now. Memories are all very blurred and I'm always so sleepy...
As we grew a little older, some of my brothers are playing with me, I'm so proud of my family. When chilly night falls on us, we sleep next to each other again and I feel safe.
Ugh, even days are now getting colder. I don't know what I'd do if I were alone here. We talk about the world behind the fence. It’s always opened and it calls for us to look out. But we're afraid what we might find there.
Once my little sister went out and she never came back. She is very curious and brave. Maybe one day I might go and maybe I'll find her. But not today, rain is pouring, my blanket is so soft...
to be continued