I watched as the little boy struggled his way on to the sport apparatus, a green-covered book lay silently on my lap; just unpacked, new and fresh like the air of the ordinary dawn as any other day. Many were there. Children bobbled around the field, footballs nearly as tall as the chubby little figures rolled and rolled, trundling to every possible corner. A green canvas smeared with black, brown, yellow and white. I gazed.
He was beautiful; his brown hair of curls and waves surged like turbulent waters as he jumped up and down on the apparatus, his small hands grasping the iron bar. The little boy looked no more than five years old, his dark-shaded skin glowing against the last bit of sunlight, illuminating the black-eyes that were inlayed in his angelic face. He jumped again and again, trying to make the apparatus shift, however in vain. The apparatus that spun obediently under my control was now adamant to standstill. I watched quietly, afraid that my heavy breathing would scare the little creature. The boy bounced about, like a rider unable to order his horse forward. The horse whined under him, but that was all it did. “Go!” my brother yelled at me in Chinese, he was perched on the very top of the climbing equipment, trapped between countless ropes and cords, ”help him out!” I didn`t know whether I should move or not, the air inhaled hurt my nostrils and punctured my lungs. The boy’s seeking eyes wandered between me and my brother, the latter too far to reach. I did not dare meet his glance, so I buried myself back in my book, pretending to suddenly be engrossed in the details of the pale pages. The words drained off, like someone abruptly flushing the toilet, wink, wink, and then everything was gone. “What are you waiting for?!” he yelled again. My head snapped up. I saw his legs dangling in the wind with a brisk swiftness. Wordless, I shot the little boy a quick glance.
He was staring at me.
But I had other…
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