The police was searching the neighborhood again. For some reason they did that always to the poor people. You walked by a policeman who was screaming towards a crying woman, holding her child. You turned down a small alley full of junk, entering through a tattered door.* In front of a table was sitting a boy, assembling some metal objects. He had a helmet on his head. "Do you think the police is going to check us? We don't have the money for the taxes."he said not looking at you,working.