I walk past him five days a week. He is always there, curling up in a corner on the inside of a subway entrance.
He has messy long hair, a beardy face, and shivers slightly in the winter breeze. Extending his arm with an empty coffee cup in his hand seems like the only constant motion in his solitary life.
He has seen tons of people pass him by in his daily routine. Some stop to drop a penny or two in his cup, while most others are just a silent observer, ignoring purposely the display of all of the conundrums that he has to deal with in his private life.
I am neither a penny dropper not a silent observer. I wish I could help him out in someway, but I only have a limited amount of resources to share with him. In preventing myself from going on a guilt trip, I would always say a silent prayer, wishing him a brighter day.
