The first time Jarocho offered me to a girl for 300 pesos I said yes, that I had gone to the Zocalo that night.The guy, who took care of cars in front of the Malecon, threw his flannel on his shoulder and smiled in such a way that his teeth shone on the dark face, burst by acne.Then, when he prepared to bring her from a alley, I said no, that he would come back later.

- Once, Brother, the yach.Orita I can get one of nine or ten years old, ”he said with a face of“ You understand me, I don't tell you anything new ”, and I felt tremendous retinction in the stomach.

–Receful before that time, nothing else will not fail.

- What happened, Brother?Men know how to do business.And as I fell to every mother, I'm going to you to give you a chingón service.You get you with her if you want more perverse things.

I returned after the king's yacht had touched the main.Then I knew that Jarocho was only a mere customer hunter, who worked for a pimp and that the girl who would wear that night was called Allison.He was addicted to the stone - that cheap drug that embruces more - and did not pass the 12 years.

A Acapulco day covered with green and wild pigs that challenged earth paths.The throats of the Toltec fishermen sang to the gods, the bamboo twisted with the wind and the petacons mangoes fattened.A thousand years later, the Aztecs would bring the plague until Hernán Cortés and its people crushed it with gonorrhea and the Virgin of Solitude.

After 500 years of bloody destinations, the big buildings arrived in the bay and divided the city into two: the beautiful face and the backyard.Agustín Lara sang María Félix, Pedro Infante bought house and Tintán loved the port forever.

Then the new millennium fell and under his arm he brought a cluster of American and Canadian pedophiles who were fed up with Cancun to point them out.They were the ones who ran their voice and, soon after, Acapulco became the youngest paradise.Since then, the pedophiles caught them untouchable, madrotas disguised as abnegated women, new HIV statistics, tendejones to drunk girls, revolvers, poverty from which some enrich themselves, open bellies, nights to watch the boys, home pagesTo see the map and know where to find children, hoteliers and taxi drivers for dirty work.Resentment and nights and hustle.

They have brought children's hordes to the Malecon, the Zocalo, to the channel that takes the sewage to ovens, to the oxxo that is heading to Telecable, to the SorianCaletilla, to the fence of the Countess restaurant, just around the Xóchitl Beauty Hall, to La Paz Street, to the Real Hacienda Hotel, to the Rapid Road Bridge, to the traffic light of Aurrerá, around the round that everyone knows as the stonesof the Countess, to the beach that Cortés baptized as Puerto Marqués, and to the Puteros del Centro.And that is why UNICEF reports to Acapulco as the Mexican city number one in terms of child prostitution.He has unseated Cancun and Tijuana.

In these 1,882 square kilometers, almost everything that a pedophile needs: incredible beaches, cheap drugs and in pasmos amounts, eyes that never see and mouths that never speak, 50% off hotels, a municipal side that stipulates that in Acapulco noTourists are fine, brothels where the age of majority is reached from children, parents who think that children are currency, and children, many children, who due to a PVC boat or a little marijuana are willing to face thelife and mislead death with their bodies.

In the streets of the center, those that rise painfully towards the sky, is the venus bar.It is an old two -story construction, reluctantly painted.It is a similar orange with which Van Gogh painted the melancholic picture The Old Tower in The Fields.The rickety door is blue, as if who crossed it was straight to paradise.But no: inside, the fans revolve without emphasis, there are exhausted sheet tables and customers are a ball of unhappy to which they only get drunk to combat heat and sadness.Perhaps the depressing thing is the track where women of powerful bellies dance: it is a huge concrete oyster that throws red and green lights.Everything seems taken from Alejandro Jodorowsky's movies or comics.

Mía danced in the tube like a numb -hained boa while from La Rocola Noelia's voice came out with that "You, my madness, you, you make me your body, you don't let me go".Mine, who was actually called Ariadna, had turned 14 on September 3 and was proud of her age because that helped her customers fight for her.He tried to sit on my legs and sent her to the chair.

- What are you Joto?She asked with a pasty speech.I was already drunk."No, but you're the age of my niece." And mine looked like I had fallen crazy.Then, he ordered a beer as he listed his rules:

- You have to give me 40 pesos for being here;With that you already pay my beer.If you want something else, there are rooms behind.They cost 100 pesos and I charge you 200.If you want me to suck it, it's 100 more.

- I just like to talk, I'm a reporter.

–Well, give me the 40 and we talked.

When I got the money I looked at her well: the eyes, in intense black, were almost lost in the face;She was made up like the dead, she had a double chin, her breasts were barely growing her and her body was gridded with her was an irreparable coppery color.

I paid.Then mine told me that this name was put there an old man, a patron friend.She was very stupid, but she had to endure."I would have chosen a name like Esmeralda or something".It was hot land, but he had arrived in Acapulco half a year ago to work in an Oxxo, but when they told him that in Venus he could gain 800 pesos a day, he sent to the devil the idea of being a cashier dressed in red uniform withyellow.

"There in Oxxo I was going to win about 50 pesos and I like to buy clothes".His mother does not know what he does and, if he knew, he does not worry: “Because I keep her, my grandmother and two nephews;As my dad went to California and never returned, we needed the money ".

Prostitute does not take away his dream."In my town they sell women since childhood, with that they pay the TV they buy or the beers that they did not pay".He also said that he would like to try drugs and that one day he wants to be a soap opera actress.He did not speak more because a fat.They drank a caguama as if both fainted thirst.Then, when in the giant oyster a woman danced who seemed to have gone with a butcher to make the caesarean section, the guy took to mine.They went to the rooms.

–Moñana I will have two boys;here see you and happen to one.

Andrew will be about 60 years old and his three children have already given him four grandchildren.His second wife, he said, is 10 years younger than him and swears it just like the day they met.It may be true.Andrew has white hair, his skin is tan.His Spanish is nibbled, but gives to talk.

Supposedly he lives in Boston and worked in a pub where men entrusted him nostalgia and male feats.I did that to approach him while we ate a shrimp cocktail on Caleta Beach.Andrew was the only gringo who believed that children were also my weakness.The others I tried to talk were disapplicen and they did not serve much.

For about five years, when Jean Succar Kuri hoted Cancun, Andrew entered the pages of the pedophiles on the Internet and knew where to emigrate: Acapulco.And, above all, to Caleta Beach.

- They told me that in Caleta one gets children, but I don't know how, "I released when Andrew combined the shrimp with a diet coke.

"It is easy," he said with the tone of who does not lie. ".You have to deal with those women - and pointed to the indigenous people that this morning they sold badly made crafts and other baratijas.

- What do I have to tell you?- Andrew asked and he looked at me like who is sorry for a Pordiosero.

- Ask them something they sell or give them to eat;The boy is already in the price.

-I eat the breakfast…

–Yes, like the open bar.

To be honest, I did not know if talking more or wearing a punch right there.We were silent because we didn't think of anything else and we looked at the sea and its chips.There passed a couple of travelers with backpacks on the shoulder, a guy who sold scraped, a coast that made a little branch, an old man who rented tire cameras to use them as floats, a couple of fishermen who showed 10 kilos mojarras, a marriage withHis son in his arms, and some children who, as if they were puppies, stirred in the waves.Andrew scudded them as art critics do.

- Don't tell women that you are Mexican, better talk to them in English - Andrew filled the silence.

- They would not believe it.I think I already fell.

–Moñana I will have two boys;here see you and happen to one.They are so innocent ...

- And you can't?

"No, last night was crazy," he said and ordered half a dozen oyster with a few drops of Tabasco sauce.

When I said goodbye to never see him again, I went with some indigenous people and, although they spoke in their language, I understood that I went to hell.With the same importance I was treated by the beach life.He used an absurd and cynical logic to answer why he does nothing against guys like Andrew: "I just care that no one drown up".

In the municipal DIF, Rosa Muller, a woman with a huge heart, had told that indigenous people have the habit of selling their children to foreigners.Not Mexicans.Who knows why.Another fact: Adriana Gándara, an official of the CGR Crime Victims Center, has said that at least half of the more than two thousand children who prostitute themselves in Acapulco are indigenous.

Yellow Agenda of News, The Diary of the Guerrerense Family.Friday, November 21.Two ads:

Secondary girl !!Tender, beautiful and sexy baby.What are you waiting for?

Bonita Chiquilla.I'm a high school student.Delgadita.Bustona.Call me.

I called a public phone.In the first announcement he answered a guy who knew his business.I do not remember the name of the girl who offered, but described her with such a lip that she left no chick to believe that there was no thinner or more round and raised rear than hers.

- You talk to me about a calendar woman, Compa.Are you sure it goes in high school?

- I swear by God, carnal.The shaman is guaranteed, that's why I'm leaving you at 1,500 pesos.IRA: She goes to your hotel and after two hours you return it to me.

–Dhol I stay and call you again.

"You can get your cell phone.".

I gave him an old number that I stopped using.

In the second classified XXX a woman responded with a girl's voice.Assuming that he was a high school student, he said calling himself Lulu, boasted of having experience and reiterated that he was almost ready for everything.He charged two thousand pesos and five hundred for having anal sex.No photos, no video.

–I'm stayed at Mayan Palace, ".What if they don't let you in?

–I'll already gone there.Don't worry, I like your pool, it's fine big.

–Well, let it think and look for you.

–Anim yourself now, I will be busy later.

- And you are not afraid that it is a murderer or something?You don't know me.

-You neither.

–And if I told you that I am a reporter and I tell you stories of girls like you?

Hung.

You put there that my name is Manuel.I am 16 years old, but I have prostituted for 10, when I left the house because my mother just loved my stepfather, an old bastard who knows that if she gets with me my Ecatepec band puts her in her mother.I have walked for the DF, Hidalgo, Puebla, Veracruz, Cuernavaca and Chilpancingo.Here, Acapulco, I already has arrived as since 2004.And it's cool.

[We are in the hostel of the municipal DIF called Plutarca Maganda de Gómez, a religious that nobody remembers.Here the prostitutes children arrive that the director of the place, Rosa Muller, looks in the streets of Acapulco to give them food, clothing, let them shower and, if they want, live until they turn 18.No boy is forced to stay.Manuel is one of those children who enters and leaves the shelter depending on the desire to get high.To buy stone and marijuana, which fascinates his brain, he knows that he must comply with the vicious circle of escape, prostitute himself, buy his lethal cocktail and new clothing that helps him boast among the band that he has triumphed;He then returns to the shelter.When he is outside, he wins about 6 thousand pesos a week.He makes a fortune.]

In this there are always customers.Most are old, but there is everything: Gabachos, Canada, French and much Mexican.It is not true that just tourists from other countries seek us.There are more damaged peers.Czech: there is the clown of the Zocalo, El Chapatín;That only wants one to give him and give us drugs.Is the gray tsuru;It is from Cuernavaca, it falls once a month and lifts two or three;pays well.There is another bastard of the tarascos taquería.There is a Güey of the Real Hacienda Hotel that lets us sleep and he has a lot of stone and PVC.Another Güey is one that is on a red motorcycle;It is also a padrote.The one that also enters hard is a doña who then sells soap bubbles in the center;She likes girls and is MAYates Madrota.And there is Fatima, a gringa and a lady who lives for the party inn.

[Manuel wouldn't have to lie, so it's better to keep listening to him.]

The price we handle almost all is 200 pesos, plus 100 for falling to sleep.Gabachos and Gabacas give more: 400.And what is also about them is that they take you to Papagayo Park, to routcholis or stay in very fuckon hotels.I have gone to the guarantee, to Hyatt, the President, the Emporio and the Princess.They are very pretty.But don't think the gabachos are shielded.I know English.Well, I defend myself.I know how to say, my phone, where I am and all the rudeness.Thus I conquered a gringa.I was about 50 years old.Is the oldest gabacha with which I have been.The youngest?One of 30, when I was about eight years old.

[Manuel brings the hair dyed from the tips.He is a pure fiber boy with a zigzagging look.It boasts your jeans Fubu or something, as if they were some Versace.It has been without getting two days.]

That's what I can't leave: drugs.I don't like pussy because they love me.The fungi make me silly and the coca takes away my dream.That's why I prefer marijuana and stone.Some panicate with the stone, they believe that they are following them, the body is numb;Not me.He hasn't even left me crazy.Ah, because the stone is bastard.Many of the band have gone gone, well slim.With those you can not talk.You don't understand what they say.But I told you, with the speck and stone I do it.Sometimes also pvc, but little because the devil gets.I do that because the can costs 50 pesos and me, that of the hardware store, gives it to 35.There are nights that I stay with him and it gives me cheaper.

[While speaking, Manuel yawn and flashes as if they had taken it from sleep kicks.He woke up half an hour ago.Around one in the afternoon.]

What else can I tell you?Well, here I have to see many deaths.A jotito with whom I got together to a car and stabbed him.I don't know if they were his customers, but I saw Bato fall.Another died of cancer and a morrita of overdose.Angel, El Gordo, died of AIDS.I am even negative.Here in the shelter we do the test every time.I am not afraid of AIDS.I'm a lucky bastard.

Allan García, one of the editors of the Guerrero Day, has a relentless memory for hard and chilling data:

* There are exclusive packages for pedophiles that include hotel and child.Costs: 200 to 2 thousand dollars, according to the degree of puberty.The boy only receives $ 20.

* From the age of five they are prostituted.At 18 they no longer serve.

* Those who control child prostitution in Acapulco are, above all, Thai.

* After tourism and drug sale, child prostitution is the activity that leaves more income in Acapulco.

Allan remembers these figures well because less than a month ago, during the week that the DIF Acapulco organized to talk about the subject, the local PGR officials opened their databases.

In those meetings the history of the bus with an Azteca recorded on the windshield was also told.It circulates everywhere, except on your route.Do not raise passage.Girls go up with decrepit men every time the truck stops.In fact, when washing the bus, in the river the shrimp, the girls fight to clean it because the driver does not pay with money.Pay with drugs and clientele that spends a loose fist.

Eric Miralrío, an Acapulqueño who served as a guide to the reporter, suggested that we look for Nayeli in the Malecon.I knew her because just this year she had taken some photographs during the realization of a documentary.From what I heard him say, the kid did not go from 16 years, at 13 he was mom and his padrote hit him to impose respect.It seemed like a great character.

The second night we were looking for, another street on the street named Chucho told us with her drugged tongue that Nayeli had been killed with 25 stabs.He no longer said because the PVC brought him a zombie.

A day later, Rosa Muller, the director of the Municipal DIF shelter, would tell the story of a Nayeli that turned out to be the same as Eric knew.

And this is what comes in the notebook: Nayeli was a coast that since he was born was pretty.Before turning seven, it was already part of the catalog that a padrote showed customers.At 13, the proxeneta was made by mother and removed the baby because she told her that an addict like her would end up killing.Nayeli passed her on the streets until a boy from the band fell in love with her and together they managed to rent a room by the factories.At the beginning of last May, he was drugged from his house and swallowed the earth.The red note reporters found her lying on the streets, with 25 stabs.They also slaughtered it.Muller learned about the murder on the pages of El Sol de Acapulco, the newspaper that counts the dead.

What the authorities came to know is that, for a few pesos, Nayeli betrayed a burner (place where drugs are consumed).And the traffickers do not forgive those things.When the SIF wanted to collect the body in the coroner to give it to the family, it had already disappeared.No one wanted to know more about the matter.Very few cried.

That morning the radio said that Acapulco would be fresh, no more than 33 degrees.Samy, however, the sun fell like a piano in the head: it brought a tremendous hangover.I met him on the Bevsa beach because a fisherman with a glass eye came to offer everything: oyster, the parachute walk, until he landed in the matter of the marijuana and the children.

- I know the jotiTos de las Piedras, I can tell one who comes here with you or, if you want, you can take it right there, there is no fart.Everyone does it there.

Samy brought a red dick, the shirt on the shoulder and an demonized thirst.I told him he was a reporter from the start.Who knows if they could more desire to drink a Yoli, but he stayed for a while.

First he said that nothing else had gone to the stones because he was urgent.But already on the confession train, he presumed that his best experience was with a couple of Cubans, a year ago: while he toured the woman's body, the man recorded him.They gave him 100 dollars and with that he went to swim to the cici amusement park, ate in a taquería in the center, bought two shirts and the rest inhaled it.He made it clear that he was not homosexual: "I just give and have a girlfriend," he rowed with the brave pose of the lottery.

- And do you use condoms?You take care of yourself?

"They don't have left.".

His feet sank into the sand.I have not mentioned it, but Samy is nine years old.

If Rosa Muller proposed it, she would probably be able to tell a thousand stories.For her I found out how Yahaira, a girl from Pachuca, came one day to Muller's house with a birthday cake, a gangrenned leg, an invincible tuberculosis and an HIV that threw darts to the last defenses of her organism.He died a couple of months ago.

Another story that hurts Muller is Oliver's, 12 years old.Until a few weeks ago, in addition to prostituting, he was dedicated to selling drugs.It was easy to consume and not pay the business owner.To scan, to understand that this is not done, they tied it with a tape cinnamon to a tree.In 15 days, they only gave water, pasta soup and a hundred blows.Thus he arrived at the shelter.The doctors took several days to save their hands and five minutes to escape again.Muller, who knows why he says things, swears that at this point Oliver must be dead.

The most attractive story, however, is that of Muller itself.That is, Mama Rosy's, as all the boys call her.

It turns out that his son, today, 13, used to go to an internet located behind the Oviedo Hotel, in the center of Acapulco.I went there because they lent him the play station just for letting themselves take pictures.In addition, as the owner of the place told him that in Mama Rosy's house there were ghosts, the boy was not interested.

One day, Mom Rosy was struck that, suddenly, his son was a sullen, sweat at night and talk about evil spirits that no one could defeat.Curiosity led her to investigate and to know that in the Internet Café there were always many foreigners who at first glance were nothing reliable.Over time, he contacted the PFP cyber police and in a few weeks it was discovered that the Internet was the operations center of a band of pedophiles.

In April 2003, the authorities arrested 18 pedophiles, 12 of them foreigners, and rescued 10 children.Among the detainees was Enrique Meza Montaño, son of the then councilor for convergence, Óscar Meza Celis.Enrique was the only one who obtained his freedom a few hours.It did not matter that he, 29, was the owner of the Internet called Ikernet or that he was arrested when he was in the company of two minors.

To the others, the PFP presented them as part of a band that operated in Europe, the United States, Canada and Mexico, in addition to linking them with two pedophilia artists: Robert Decker and Timothy Julian, both sentenced in Californian prisons.The average age of the detainees was 65 years.A couple of them had HIV and "committed suicide" later in the Acapulqueñas dungeons.

That fact marked Mama Rosy and founded an NGO to protect the children.From the gas station of his family he took out the resources and the boys were wanting it.

Soon his name began to circulate in the port and in 2005, when Félix Salgado Macedonio arrived at the Mayor's Office, he appointed her director of the Plutarca shelter.

On December 31, Mama Rosy's three years end.The boys are sad, they say they will return to the streets because nobody has taken care of them like her.Muller, of German ancestry, plans to rent an old house to take the children."I'll see how I do it, but I don't want to leave them, they are easy prey," he says as he accommodates his glasses for myopia.What is a fact is that your child has gradually out.He no longer sees ghosts.

PD: Last Wednesday, November 26, the American Patricia Katheryn O'Donovan denounced that Neozyre Murray Wilfred Burney, also known as Mario Burney, was recruiting minors to reorganize the network of pedophiles that Meza Montaño and others left thedrift.

I was one of those who was selling drugs.El Buenero (narco) even gave me a gun to defend me.It was a 22, well doggy.I entered because I didn't like to bed with the gringos.Well, what happens is that one day one hit me and I no longer wanted.From there I threw the wave to the women, but there was one, I think it was from Italy because I spoke very funny, that it became well crazy in the room, as I wanted to kill me.It was skinny and I, you see, because I am filling, so I put some madrazos and I left.That's why I got from Dealer.Well, they put me.

As I explain?Here is a lot of good that grabs us to sell because they do not get into jail, they just take our drugs and give us some zapes.And you enter because you enter.If you don't want, they hit you.They say that one was killed.Then I got fed up and I came better here, to the shelter.I don't know what I will do now that Mom Rosy leaves.Buena must be well angry because I left the chamba.That's all I can tell you.I have a boring life.

[Silvia, it's called Silvia.To be your age, 14 years, it is strong enough to destroy an entire floor in an outburst.You would like to have a doll.]

I am a norm.I grew up in Tepito, there on the street of Jesús Carranza.I left there because my mother died.I had AIDS.I say that my dad infected her;He was always very women, but who knows, my mother also had her boyfriends and when she was drugged.

[Again in the Plutarca shelter.Another story.Another invisible girl.Another cigar to endure.]

From the other, how I began to prostitute myself, I don't like talking.It gives me as anxiety.But I'm here, what.I'm going to open.Mom Rosy has told us that we speak it, that what one is like is like a stone in the shoe or as a ring that stood on us on our finger and we have to loosen it.Let's see, there you.

[16 -year -old Norma, have been sweating his hands since he laid.That is why it has been drying them on the basketball player's short.Bring the badly cut hair, as if someone had bit his head.It smells like cheap soap.He makes bombs with the gum and has an exact smile.]

I would have to start telling that at age six I raped a cousin.Then, about eight, an uncle, my dad's brother raped me.I was already 11 years old when my dad arrived drugged and wanted to do it.Only God knows why he couldn't.If I had done it, surely I had AIDS too.From there I no longer liked men.Disgust me.But about four years ago when I arrived in Acapulco, they told me that there were gentlemen who got used to the chamacada.I, at first, did not want.Then you see that they give them things and that the band brings money.Then I said "fucking her mother, I enter".Of course: I've always made it very drugged.As in my judgment I do not give me, I even want to vomit.The anger is that then you don't even remember what they did to you.I have then woken up with pain throughout my body and bruises.With whom I liked, really, it is with the gringas.I do do them as with love.There was one that looked for me a lot.She gave me a cell phone and clothes.He told me that he wanted to take me to the United States to live with her, but he never returned.

[Standard gets up, says he goes to the bathroom.He looks rare, anxious, without knowing why.It all started because I asked him if that badly scratched tattoo that Faby says was in honor of the gringa and she said no, that Fabiola is a story that now comes back will tell.Return and meet your word.]

Fabiola was my girlfriend, but he made me a mop.It was a bastard.He said he loved me and walked with men.I cried, I told her that my son, ah, because I have a four -year -old son that I haven't seen a long time ago, I needed a mother like her.It earned him a mother.It just fooled me.Even her parents loved me, they said that something like me was what Fabiola needed.Now I hate her and I love Diana, the chava that a while ago came here with her baby.Diana knows that now that I finished studying nursing I will take care of her and the baby.The bad thing about Diana is that she still acts as a girl and then I don't know what she wants.

[Untimely, norm asks me if you can go.I can't force her.Soon, the psychologist arrives as a ventarrón with the bad news that Norma has buried her nails on her face and that she has spent burning the letters she wrote to Fabiola.I feel a moron.

Mama Rosy will go to reassure her and Norma will return with her bleeding face."There is no anger, then I get locochona," he says with the tone of who assumes all the fault without having it."Right now I drew me, they already taught me at school how to do it.".It takes half a course for Nurse Auxiliary.Mama Rosy pays it for.It tells me that now it is received to your graduation.]

In front of the famous Red Barba Bar, at Condesa, I approached a taxi in the coastal Miguel Alemán.

- Do you know where I can get morritas?

–Ahorita, for the time, just in the tavares, the hat or in the appointment houses.

It's already five in the morning.

"But I have rare tastes: I want girls, or boys," I said, looking at his eyes for the rearview mirror.The driver, as if he had told him that he needed to buy a dog, looked among his cell phone numbers among contacts.

–I know a bastard who has pure shamaquita.I have already worked with him, it is safe, they do not steal you and everything is very discreet.Let him call him.Spoke with such an unfair that I could well renegotiate the FTA.

–He says they have them occupied.It is late, the bisne must be done at midnight.Look for me after a while, I get here as from the afternoon.

Relieved, I got off at a hotel that was not mine.The taxi driver's face, in the sleep, did not leave me alone.

It is Friday afternoon and in Acapulco, the Acapulco Zocalo, there is a sustained cacophony.When my parents brought me, I only saw libinant, indigenous boleros who spent expelled their children, young people who carried in their heads cubets in impossible balances, dogs eating garbage, to the balloon seller, a cathedral whose entrance smelled excrement, garbageand Tamarindo;A newspaper post that was sold bad news, the nevería, police officers who spent scratching their heads, a kiosk where the gringos took pictures with the natives, as if the women were macaque, and a sidewalk of restaurants where one endedWith endless diarrhea.

I would have seen that same Zocalo if it weren't because Mom Rosy made me a sketch of what you never see.

Then I saw that, in effect, the bank that is in front of Oxxo is for women to be looking for a child.A few meters ahead, to the right from south to north, there is another bank that surrounds a tree.That is for girls and pedophiles they know very well.Who looks for action with children's hands has to sit where boleros work;The merchandise comes alone.At night, with taking out the cell phone and keeping it on, it is enough for the chamacos to offer.At those same hours, in the cathedral, the priest cites the Bible and says "let the children approach me".There is the fat man who sells bubbles, stuck in lycra meshes, next to a guy whose face seems spoken portrait of the PGR.It is the same as that both the authorities of the municipal DIF and the boys locate and Madrota.I saw the chilacatazo lonchería crowded with indigenous people, but I didn't see gringos.Supposedly, there the indigenous people offer their children in exchange for food.I saw the old man in shorts and shoes to spend exercising while choosing which boy to take.Foreigners, especially Americans, eat at the El Kiosco restaurant.They spend analyzing the boys as if they were expert tastors.

Not even the mosquerío knew what color to wear the penalty.

Alexa, Chucho and the burned sink their faces in the dishes where they have served a vomitive wire of meat to the pastor.We are in a taqueria for the rumbos of the Malecon and how they will speak until they finish eating, it only remains to see them.Especially Alexa.She is very thin.They say it wasn't like this.That for a while here brings diarrhea.His hair has a distant relative color of the blond.It is almost black.Bring a pink backpack where the PVC can save.She is the youngest of the three: she is 17 years old and a decade on the street.The burned and chucho, who already exceed 20, will then tell that the girl is orphan and how good, because her parents hit her.

–Then what you want to know?–The voice of the burned one with the walls.

–Everyone they want to count.

Alexa and Chucho, already with a half full stomach, refuse to speak.But the burned, who has lost everything scrupulous, summarizes the life of both:

–A Alexa everyone has taken it.And the chucho has been Mayate.

–Calmate, Güey –Reprocha Chucho, a short guy who believes is a fighter.

"It's the net, right?"Why do we get assholes?You have to say things how they are.

"But I don't do it with men," Chucho defends himself.

- But you did, what aren't it?

–Noms a time, from eight to 14 years old.

Alexa stays quiet.Nothing will change your mind: let the burner tell what you want.He does not care.

"Here we have all been Mayates," says the burned..One needs money.Net that if they gave us work we leave this, but as we use a mother to the government.Go to Alexa, all fucking.See you to know if he's sick.

The talk is interrupted because the waiter has run from the taqueria.The people who ate at the other table demanded that the three pordioseros and the client with more money be started.On the way to the CROC courts, where the three sleep, the burned one will tell that they no longer have so much clothes since a Canadian, whom Cris called Cris, stopped going to Acapulco.

"Did you give them to them?"Was he religious or something?

- No Mames, Compa, that bastard was a click Cogelón de Morritos.He came very often to the boardwalk because he had a sailboat.That bat.

- What was it from him?

–Well, look: the Cris had the crack of hitting the morros.One day, a little one who told Querétaro did not leave and put his madrazos.Sent it to the hospital.It already has a year that the Cris does not stop here.

- And what about Alexa?She looks very bad.

–Simon.It is AIDS, that morra already has AIDS.But one does not tell him so that he does not agüite.

-Whats up with your life?Why do the burning tell you?

–Because when I was a morrito I burned in the house of Father Chinchachoma.The sweater turned on to go by bastard.I have all my back like chicharrón.

-And your parents?Do you have brothers?Where are you from?

-No no no.We are not going to talk about me.In addition, I already told you a lot and not a soda click you wanted to buy me.

The burned went.Chucho said goodbye to a fighter pirouette.And Alexa said he hated reporters.

Jarocho, with his bare feet and his sour stench, took Allison to the car.The girl brought a rude perfume, straight hair fell on her shoulders, she was tan.

"Well, I left them," Jarocho said with his 100 pesos in his hand for being the intermediary and gave me despair.

Allison was sad or scared.I didn't advance much.I parked on Tamarindos beach.It was about to tell him that we would only talk, and nothing more, when a truck threw my lights.I thought it was the police.I imagined in the dungeons and in the back cover of the press.But no, it was something worse: a double white cabin with polarized glass.

"It's the one who takes care of us," said Allison and I experienced one of those moments when the world seems to stop.

- And why follow us?

–Because you want to see in which hotel I'm going to enter.

I started to sweat and I felt sticky.The only thing that occurred to me was to accelerate.So worried I went through the traffic lights in red.So there the police stopped me.I got out of the car and, between murmurs, I had to tell you that she was a reporter and that the girl was part of the story.One of them, the powerful jaw, threw the light to Allison and she smiled in such a way that at that time she could have sold cocaine to any cartel."Well, if you already paid for him, take it," said the officer and I wanted to break his face."He leaves, we are going to give you the service," said the other with his golden tooth like Pedro Navajas.There I repaired that the double cabin wolf was not.We arrive at the hotel parking lot.When Allison, who was actually called Gregoria, tried to get out of the car to enter the premises, I stopped it:

–I interest me that they tell me stories.

Allison showed a gesture of disbelief.

–First Page me the 300 pesos and put a song by Belanova.

"I don't have any of her.Don't you like U2?

–Pon whatever you want, but less in English.I like singing, I want to be big: singer.Caifanes was heard in the speakers and she spoiled the song.

Then Allison took the floor:

–I come from beyond Zihuatanejo, there I have a European boyfriend who then comes to visit me here.It treats me well.Buy what I want.He gave me a Rosita cell phone.Nothing more than the one who takes care of us took it to me, he said that this is not for women of my age.Do you want this to tell you or something more horny?

-That's OK.

"You are very rare." And he gave a violent breath to the cigar. ".Well: Well, my dad was killed and my mother is in jail.I think something was stolen, I don't know well.And as my uncles hit me, because I better came here.I just finished primary school.I like the red color and almost daily the one who takes care of us gives us stone.That's me.

- And you live in a house, income a hotel?

–Now I stay in the house that takes care of us.We are like seven and two chamacos that pass it by scrubbing.

- And can they leave alone?

-Depends.

-Of?

-Depends.

- And who do you prefer: gringos, Canadians or Mexicans?

-Depends.I like those who have money.Once a gringo took me to Cancun like a month.There is very nice, I don't know if you know.Here, a couple took me home a week, just to be with them, sleep in the middle of the two and swim without clothes.I don't know if you know, but each client is different - he said it as if he had discovered the wheel.

- What is the best and the worst that has happened to you in this business?

- It is better to meet people everywhere and that in addition to paying you they give you clothes or stone.Worst?When the one who takes care of us.

"Do you hit them a lot?"

–No when he is drugged.In his judgment it is very good.How will I tell you?Is loving.

Jarocho had told me not to exceed me from the time to not have problems and that he left Allison to the side of the Barbaroja bar, that someone would pick it up.The deadline was about to be fulfilled.He left when the caifanes said something like "let's not let the devil ate us".When he woke up, I started from Acapulco, hating him.