He sat in the yard, surrounded by high buildings, a glimpse of the sea can be seen from between the buildings. He stares at the sun-rays sparkling over the sea surface, dreamily imagining himself at the other side of the sea, at a better land.

There he is a normal kid, getting dressed for school, carrying his heavy backpack, his tiny fingers tightening around the sandwich, eating quickly, as his feet march in a rush against time to get to school, before the bell rings. Reaching at last to take his place behind his classmates in the long line waiting to get to class.

In the classroom, he sits behind the small desk, scratching words, listening to the teacher explaining the lesson, she calls over his name to approach the board, he is moving slowly with confident steps forward, still his name being called is echoing in the atmosphere over and over again.

He opens his eyes, looks around, there is no board, this is not a classroom, it is the dusty yard, with the same dull buildings surrounding it, same worn out laundry spread on the balconies, people sitting around in groups of misery, laughing out of despair, exhaling the death away, in wait for the real breath of life.

With weary steps, he follows the echoes of his name leading the way to his home, to his shelter, to the dark room that keeps him and his family safe. That keeps him alive until death appears on his door.