52. MEMORIES ARE MADE OF THESE

My playground on this trip - Uttar Pradesh state where I moved between Delhi, Lucknow and Gorakphur

My Indian kids kept me grounded, these pictures are what I have of them. I left them with a heavy heart as I know I will not come this way again. I gave them a set of pictures and through the years, these will be what we will remember one another by until, hopefully, they will learn how to keep in touch through snail mail or the email. They might just be like other young people I wrote about in my recent posts - their guardians are conformists and highly conditioned, with no exposure to new thinking, new ways of doing things.

But they're street kids with no real families, so who cares? I care.