For the past twelve years I spent quite some time working with children from one of the worst neighbourhoods in Romania. I often believe I was a moron for thinking I had any idea what I was doing.
It took me years to understand that repeated and regular failure would be an intricate part of my future, if I wanted to find success. It was difficult.
The first child that died of drug abuse, the first contact I had with a band of drug addicts under the age of twelve, the toilets from hell that I needed to clean, the children sleeping on the stairs and bitten by rats, the sewage running down the street, the piles of garbage, the racist doctor in an emergency room, the lice, the incredible arrogance and stupidity of donors and politicians, the useless meetings and endless talks, the absurd calls for projects of the…
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