Foreign to his eyes.

In moments of universal dense fog, I can’t help but think about this photo I took a couple of years ago in Mexico City.

I’ve been hesitant to share it on social. I think it’s a beautiful picture yet painful to look at. But haven’t we all witnessed people in similar situations with our own eyes? I remember this day clearly as if it was yesterday. It was my last day in Mexico, and I was a little sick and tired. The people I was with wanted to go to the Metropolitan Cathedral, so the gentleman who was driving us around the city suggested that we get off several blocks away so we could walk by other must-see places on our way there.

As we got off, in the middle of a giant wave of people, all I saw was this young accordion player. I saw a kid without adult supervision. I saw peace in the midst of chaos. I saw innocence and confusion. I saw hope and resilience. I saw all the good and sad things a human being can experience but in the body of a person who was barely 10-12 years old. I approached him and asked if I could take a picture of him, and he said yes. His eyes pierced my camera lens; I was just another foreign to his eyes. But in reality, his eyes pierced something in me I still live with until this day.

‘Til this day, I have this picture saved in my mind, and it raises so many questions I’m yet not able to answer (or I refuse to?). Why him? Why me? Why life?
This boy is just one out of the million children across the globe working in the streets to bring something home. What are we doing wrong? Are we even trying? Are we selfish for making an extra effort to have a better quality of life, or are we just trying to survive? What if this kid was given a chance to become the next big accordion player? What if he was just given a chance to be a kid? Moments like this make me question: are our governments really doing what we’re paying them for?


So many tragic events are happening right now, and I understand that we can’t stop our lives; we gotta keep going and hope (or pray) that it stops soon. But instead of hoping or praying that it stops, why don’t we hope or pray that our hearts become a little more vulnerable and “human” (if it’s still a positive adjective to use)? Better yet, why don’t we start practicing some of this?


I’m not here to make a point, but I do want all of us to take a moment and reflect on how we can collectively make a positive change in someone’s life. Maybe, just maybe, one day we can make this an everyday trend, which will then make it a habit, and we’ll be better off.