Selina, cold, the coldness of hell. Her and Rosa shivered in the winter's icy wrath, perched underneath the bridge. Rosa clenched Magda to her breasts with fear, but Magda was protected by the shawl. Selina would hold the infant on occasion, but she was often jealous of Magda. Selina was only fourteen and needed the warmth of a shawl to protect her from the world that had thrown her out. It was dusk, but under the bridge, the glorious shades of sunset were suppressed by the thick black smoke rising from the nearby factories. The city as a whole was vibrant and lively - lights turned on, streets bustling with the harmonious noises of people moving and working pleasantly. Selina, Rosa, and Magda however, beneath the bridge, didn't know or care. The only life that Selina and Rosa knew before the bridge was one of prostitution, drug dealing, loneliness, and poverty.
Selina and Rosa lived with a friend in his apartment, until he was shot in a drive-by. They needed money-especially for supporting the baby Rosa would have. It had gotten there by rape, but Rosa wanted to keep it nonetheless. They turned again to prostitution and found themselves in trouble with a man named Mario. Mario threatened to kill Selina one night, and the next day, her and Rosa fled to beneath the bridge. They had lived there ever since, finding scraps of food to satisfy Magda's little hunger, and occasionally to satisfy Stella and Magda as well. But Magda had the shawl, and that made all the difference. The shawl was magic. Perhaps it would save little Magda from suffering the same fate as those who raised her. Perhaps not. The newborn sucked the shawl, and it kept her safe from the factory smoke, cigarette smoke, noise of the others residing under the bridge, and the looming threat that Mario would find Selina and Rosa.