The last children to do nothing

While documenting a painter’s work in Kolkatta, we often walked through an alley. It was always full of children. We asked permission to paint on a wall, and I took pictures. The designated adult who watched over the children was always dead drunk. There was boy, who was a sculptor. Everything he made was touched by every other child in the alley. His mother never spoke, but carried herself with the grace of a goddess. I could go on and on.. it sounds like some delirious dream but it really did happen, I have the photographs to prove it.