Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Spare a thought?


There is always something strangely uncanny about a beggar... So many feelings towards misery - the repulsion in front of the vile ones, the tearful pity for old ones, the annoyed 'get lost' sneer to little dirty brats coming for the third time to ask for a dime or a slice of pizza, the indifference to those who are obviously pulling your leg while dragging theirs.. I find myself revolted when a 10-year old gypsy comes running from behind, spanks me and grabs the bottle of mineral water from my hand, moved to tears when I see an old man kneeling and holding out a dirty furcap (feeling which is sharply emphasized by the fact that I don't have my camera with me).

Some years ago, I had a certain path from college to the bus station.. Every day, from morn to dusk, in front of theater Nottara there was a 15-year-old girl. Always barefoot, never dressed with anything thicker than a t-shirt, seeming to ignore everybody, holding a cardboard someone must have stuck in her hands under severe threats never to put it down, the cardboard telling her (most likely not true) story about an ill mother and 2 younger brothers, she just sat there, on the ground, leaning on the wall between the Golden Falcon jewelry shop and Simeza art gallery, eternally crying and sobbing... (to be honest, I also felt my eyes welling up whenever I passed the gallery because of the sheer ugliness of the modern artists' visions shamelessly on display). I found it intreaguing that she kept crying all the time.., even in my most aquatic nights, when my eyes were oozing tears for hours on end, at some point the salty streams would simply dry out! I even suspected some .. tear-incentive action, such as.. onion :) . Once I saw her sharing a sandwich someone must have given her with a stray pup, just as skinny as she was... this image tickled painfully some nerve and I decided with a friend to gather some old clothes of ours and give them to her. A few days later after this decision, I was coming back home late in the evening from my Spanish classes with my nose barely coming out of the wool scarf, I stumble accross the same girlie, nicely dressed, tall boots, high heels, plaid wool skirt... and I am left bouche bee and frog-eyed staring after her... never again am I falling for young beggars....

to be continued... I've got plenty of material lurking around in dark corners

1 comment:

  1. It's a hell of a good writing material you've got going there. Keep it coming :)

    ReplyDelete