Gabi is 18 years old. He cannot remember when he first came to the streets. His father was fed up with the hostile times of post-communism, and alcohol consumed his love for his family. When no one was at home, Gabi's father set fire to their apartment and killed himself. Gabi and his six siblings were left with their mother, who also turned to alcohol to drown her sorrows. Gabi was then forced to fend for himself on the violent streets.

Seven years ago, a car ran into Gabi, giving him slight brain damage. Malnutrition has also hindered his development, causing him to walk with a hunched back, looking as if he needed a cane. Moreover, having been weathered by the streets, Gabi looks very old. Because of his untimely aging, the other street boys have even nicknamed him “old man.” The years of abuse have also caused Gabi to be anti-social, which has made him vulnerable to attack…

One cool autumn morning, I jumped off the bus in the center where I needed to buy some notebooks. I suddenly heard a scream from the crowded sidewalk and saw Gabi take off running. Chasing closely behind was a Gypsy boy from the flower stand. When I finally caught up with Gabi, his beating was over. Gabi just lay there crying. So I picked him up and brushed him off, and we headed to a park. When I asked him why he was beaten up, he looked at me through his soft blue eyes and said, “For nothing. He wanted me to take his trash out, but I didn't want to.” For Gabi, being beaten up is more common than not…

In the winter it is very cold and snowy in Galati , which means the street children seek refuge in the sewers. One night a dozen teenagers and their German shepherd approached the manhole where the children climb in and out of the sewer. First, they called all the street girls out and made them leave, and then they chased the rest of the children with the dog. Gabi ran from the sewer straight to my apartment—I heard shouting in the hall and then a knock at the door. Gabi was panting as five other boys came up behind him. He said they were going to beat him up, so I told him I would walk him out and put him on a bus. As we headed down to the first floor, where the boys were still waiting, Gabi stuck close behind me. When I passed the boys, they started kicking Gabi, but I put myself between him and them. Then the boys' father, a rich storeowner, walked out the door. He took Gabi by the neck and asked him, “Do you remember how many beatings I gave you?” As the father pulled his arm back to throw a punch, Gabi escaped and ran back up the stairs. I followed him up and told him he couldn't stay all night on the staircase, so he followed me back down. Again, the father went to grab him, so I hid Gabi behind my back. The father, who was a bit drunk, grabbed me by the jacket and asked, “Who are you? What are you doing with this piece of trash kid?” I told him that this boy is my friend. The father began picking through my pockets asking, “Do you have any drugs on you too?” A friend of mine, who also lived in the apartment, came down the steps and yelled at the man. He let me go for a moment, and I took the opportunity to get outside with Gabi. I put him on a bus and sent him to another part of town…

But it doesn't matter what part of town Gabi sleeps in, the streets are robbing him of childhood. Gabi is fittingly called the “old man.” The untold brutality strips the years from Gabi's life. He is the premature “old man” amidst a rapidly aging community of street children.