They simply are by Patricia Kerkhofs

“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” – Angela Schwindt


There is something endlessly honest about children in the streets.

They don’t pose, they don’t pretend, they simply are.

That is why I’m drawn to photographing them, especially far from home.  In unfamiliar streets, everything feels more alive, more open, more real. And children, wherever they are in the world, carry that same raw authenticity.

When I lift my camera, I don’t try to direct them. I try to connect.
Over time, I’ve discovered that I have a certain sensitivity when it comes to photographing children, a quiet awareness of their presence, their mood, their energy. It allows me to approach without intrusion, to be accepted rather than noticed.

A glance, a smile, a moment of curiosity, that’s often enough. I catch their attention and in that split second, something pure appears. Sometimes it’s joy, sometimes seriousness, sometimes a quiet, thoughtful gaze far beyond their years.

I’m not just observing, I’m feeling the moment with them. And I believe that is what allows these expressions to surface so naturally. There is a trust, however brief, that passes between us.

Those fleeting expressions are what I search for.
They disappear as quickly as they come, but through photography, they remain.

To me, this is more than documenting a place. It’s capturing something universal. A reminder that no matter where we are, childhood speaks the same language: honest, unfiltered, and beautifully real. There is something endlessly honest about children in the streets. They don’t pose, they don’t pretend; they simply are. This authenticity is what draws me to photograph them, especially when I am far from home. In unfamiliar streets, everything feels more alive, open, and real. Children, no matter where they are in the world, embody that same raw authenticity.

 
 
 
 
 



 
 





Previous
Previous

Reflections of Resilience and Faith in Myanmar by Anne Launcelott

Next
Next

BLACK GOLD, SALTY BLOOD by João Coelho