This reminded me of a refugee boy my family took in. Wilson.

He was 5. His American fosters already had kids and video games galore, all day. But he befriended my son and came over to my house all the time.

I remember one day the boys were chatting. My son was trying to explain to Wilson that video games were now real. That you die and don't come back if you do the things on the games.

Poor boy came from a war torn village. Suddenly immersed into the opulence that is America, his poor brain was overloaded.