Pure, unassuming innocence: there is something truly mind-altering about spending time with children.
I stepped outside one afternoon, only to be met with bright eyes and happy chatter over the fact that I was holding a camera. A parade of a dozen happy friends, we flitted about the streets of Marrakech, dodging donkeys and motorcycles and men selling anything and everything you could possibly imagine.
Never, in all my travels, have I felt such joy.
They spoke to me, but not in words that I could understand. Every so often, a stranger would stop us, asking if he could translate. I did not mind, I was happy to simply be in the presence of these children.
Whether the world admits it or not, there is a divide, a fundamental misunderstanding between American non-muslims and the muslim population of the world. There is too much hate. There is too much turmoil and violence. Could this hurt be driven by simple misconceptions?
I think so.
These children are like any other children. They are like our children. As a planet, we must choose love.
