Walking.

He was old and dirty. Ηe was curled up in a dirty corner of a crowded street. His few clothes and body were covered by an old blanket which real colour you couldn’t really tell because of the years it had not been washed. His sad eyes were focused on the sidewalk. He was surrounded by hundreds of people but still he was alone. The plastic plate beside him was almost empty. I was looking at him, trying to decide wether or not I should drop a coin. There where many like him in the same street, who needed the money most? And then it happened. He was about thirty, maybe thirty-five years old and he was walking slowly towards the old man. He stood infront of him and after dropping a few coins into the plate, he continued walking. What shocked me was that he seemed to need the money even more than the old man. He’s light clothes were full of holes and even though it was a cold winter day he wasn’t wearing a jacket. His face was tired and unhealthy thin. His dark hair were combed and dirty. His only accessory was an old guitar that hanged on his back. His skinny legs seamed to be about to break in every step. He could use the money to buy something to eat. Why did he do that? Did he think the old guy needed the money more? And I’m sitting here, fully embarassed, because I have a house to sleep and dinner waiting me at home and still, I had second thoughts about giving the poor guy a few coins.