Just add water.

He was thin and dusty brown, and he wore a green
shirt and shorts, both faded and dirty, and he was barefoot on the hot cement
sidewalk at the corner of Ayala and Buendia, waving a stick with two long
ribbons, one red and one white. He headed to his friends. One was a little girl
breaking stones with a hammer longer than her thin forearm. His other friend, a
boy more gaunt than he, was squatting on a discarded tire, back to the street,
gazing up at the sparse green of exhaust-choked

Children will have their summer,
no matter where they are.