They call him parasite, but he’ll outlive us all. Is it such a bad thing to do what it takes to survive?
This man is homeless, hopeless… but alive.
He moves at a pace appropriate for his years – years measured more appropriately in winters than in birthdays. And as he passes among the nameless faces I find myself envious. Envious of this man who is covered head to toe in dirt. A man challenged to find every meal. A man cursed to have only himself to talk to, and to do so – if only out of fear of forgetting he has a voice – But a man who is free.
My feeling flitters away as …”
