On Saturday, the angelic photo of 'Baby P' shocked me, as his beautiful eyes stared out from the newspaper rack in Salisbury's Marks and Spencers.
The lovely man in my life stood at the express till to pay for a collection of Saturday's papers - whilst I stood and stared at the little innocent face.
Others commented as they picked up their paper - "Can't believe it can you?" said one. "Too cruel for words" said another in reply.
I had no words, it was too cruel indeed, I murmured in agreement as I looked at his beautiful eyes - far too young to know such sadness.
That night I held a few weeks old baby in my arms, he looked at me locked onto my eyes, and chuckled a beautiful gurgle. "Look" said I. "He's laughing" and he turned with his wide eyes, looked and smiled again.
Such trust for a pair of strangers from a nine week old bundle of beautiful innocence.
By Sunday night the Newsrack picture had changed to one of a face covered in chocolate, supposedly to hide the facial bruises.
But the truth once again was in the eyes.
Chocolate may have been smeared on his face, but his eyes were surrounded by red and swollen tissue.
No laughs, no smiles, no chuckles. Just red, swollen, painful, eyes.
So let's have no more talk of social services being fooled by smeared chocolate hiding bruises.
They say eyes are the window onto the soul. If a social worker had taken a few seconds to look into Baby P's eyes, they would have seen all they needed to know.
The misdiagnosis of broken bones and the sixty home visits aside, did no one ever ask "Why does this baby have such red rimmed eyes?"
Haringey social services need to be taken into special measures. If there is one Baby P who has died, how many babies are out there waiting for someone to notice before sad red rimmed eyes become a broken bone or worse?