Kuto’s life was filled with disgust. He was in Somalia, a country that was ravaged by war and poverty. The only thing that Kuto had to look forward to each day was the prospect of death.
Each day, Kuto would wake up and put on his black and white snapback cap. He would then look in the mirror and see his light blonde hair, which contrasted sharply with his dark sunglasses. His face was shaved clean, except for a small mustache that he had grown to signify his status as a warrior.
Kuto would then don his green and black v-neck t-shirt before heading out into the streets of Mogadishu. He did not know where he was going or what he hoped to achieve; all he knew was that he could not continue living like this.
As Kuto walked through the city, he saw the corpses of children lying in the street. This is what Somalia had become: a place where even innocent children were not safe from violence and death. Kuto felt sickened by it all, but there was nothing he could do except keep moving forward.