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| woman with bandages and black lenses taped over her eyes |
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| the beggars sing a tuneless song, "s'il vous plaît mesdames et messieurs" |
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| homeless man with decorated shopping bag and trolley |
It doesn't get easier to see. I walk past with eyes averted as if they're not human beings, as if they're not worthy of my notice and I hate that this is the only thing I know how to do.
I can't give you money, I'm sorry. If I look at you, you'll ask me and I have nothing for you. You deserve to be greeted, to hear a friendly hello, to be smiled at, respected. But since this is the unbreakable situation of time, since there are many beggars at every turn, since none of us can give you what you really need because none of us know what that is––what would you have me do?
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