workshop

Four kids in a hall in Bow, off the Roman Road. One of them born here, one in Somalia, two in Dubai. Three of them brothers. None of them know much about acting. They know about phone jacking. Being on a bus, at the wrong time, in the wrong place. We act it out. The smallest one, l'il Pete, has got a shank he hadn't told anyone about. He needs it to defend himself. When Nasser doesn't give up his phone, Pete shanks him. We talk about it. Mustafa feels bad about it. Ahmed feels good. Pete feels paranoid. Nasser feels like he might as well be dead. I ask them how many kids they know who carry a knife. L'il Pete lies on his back and stares at the cieling. Loads, he says. I know loads. When I leave they come and shake my hand. They say they never knew acting could be so much fun.