I told Fabio: Just let me stay. Even if I only get US$150 a month.

But please just let me stay here.

I don't want to go back to the garbage.

A little more in profile.

The sad story is that I lost my son when he was three years old.

I saw my son die when he was three years old.

I was at the hospital with him for three days.

I saw him dying.

Breathing his last breaths and everything.

He had acute pneumonia.

He was throwing up little pieces of his lungs.

They called me to identify my son's body. It was on top of a stone.

It was wrapped in black plastic...

with a big sign with his name, Carlos Igor.

I fell over, I fainted.

I couldn't believe that it was my son.

I asked them to take the plastic off because he was too hot.

After that my husband left me and he took my daughter away from me.

She's eight now, when my son died she was two.

I never saw her again. Not since she was two.