On the busy streets around Café Goodluck, little kids sell balloons, clean vehicles, sing and dance to earn their living. Sometime there is money, sometime there isn't. They sleep on footpaths or in shacks of tarpaulin, shivering in the cold. But they are happy. They have their own ways of having fun. They don't complain about their situation; it has been accepted as life. This is saddening, because there is no effort to rise above the state of mere survival, and their way of life continues to be basic, animalistic. The camera follows a bunch of these kids, highlighting the irony of their carefree yet gravely hopeless existence.