The first thing I notice is that the English words on her shirt don’t make sense. “Color Goob” it says, like an unwitting jab at the reader of which the wearer is oblivious. Laying over her shirt is a large, stong braid of black wavy hair, falling down from the whisps around her face. The… Read more »
{Copyright World Vision 2012, photographer Lindsey Minerva} We sit across from each other exchanging awkward giggles and smiling glances. Odish, her son and my sponsored son is our connecting link, and such a darling one at that. Through a translator I learn that Odish didn’t like taking a pacifier, that he throws his food on… Read more »
{copyright World Vision, photographer Matthew Paul Turner} In any crowd, my eyes find them. I flirt and I peek-a-boo behind their mother, they hide their faces in her neck, giggling. It is in my genetic makeup, I’m sure of it. The cheeks, the large eyes, the nubbin chins, the pursed lips, the uncreased skin, the chubby… Read more »
She sits on the back wall of the marketplace, pedaling fruits and vegetables that look familiar and those that don’t. She weighs them with experienced, weathered hands on an experienced, weathered scale. He catches our eyes and makes the universal sign for “take a picture”, then his smile brightens when we turn the camera and show… Read more »
