KIDDING GARDEN

Their eyes were fixed on me, dark and beautiful. The little boy was crouching with his arms folded across his knees, his stare intense and serious. His friend was tall and thin, standing just behind him, with dust caked on his rubbed sandals.

They looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and cautiousness, the boy standing resting his hand on the shoulder of his friend. I could see they had a kite made from a plastic bag and old twine, the tail coloured with bottle tops. I motioned to them to show how to fly it and they just looked back, unrelenting in their stares.

Feeling discouraged from befriending them, I turned my back and began to walk to a garden café situated across the road. Waiting for the dust to clear from the passing vehicles, I felt a tiny hand slip into mine. Looking down, a set of dark, glassy eyes stare back and a tattered kite held out in a welcoming gesture.