Winter is approaching and it’s madly cold outside although I’m pretty well covered, with a coat and a scarf. I pass by this woman. She’s begging people for money, sliding between cars, knocking on windows and my heart knocks suddenly. Unconsciously, I’m staring at her with compassion and my mind suddenly travels to Syria. These kids are freezing in the streets, their hands set close to that little fire they managed to light up, sitting on the pavements, squeezing each other to catch each other’s warmth. Their mothers, watching them from afar, feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders trying to find a way to save the innocence of their children from being taken away by misery and war. So many of them have seen death at an age where we didn’t even know how to pronounce our own names properly and so many have lost the hope of seeing the sun shining on their life again while we were complaining about two drops of rain. People’s mouths have become dry from the rarity of water, almost rarer than gold and as precious as diamond. And while the sun hasn’t shone on their life in a long time, even the electric light takes days to illuminate their material life. Bread has become a new battle everyone wants to win, people wait on long lines, wondering if today they will be able to finally get bread because their families have had their stomach empty for days. There’s no roof over some people’s head, all they got is their prayers to keep them hoping and the love they have for each others, when their loved ones are still by their side praying for a warmer day.