The Kindness of Strangers
Was going to write up a piece about the happenings of late.
But that’ll have to wait, since I’m not feeling like it.
Instead, I’ll write about what’s on my mind right now.
A beggar I’ve come to know around here, called Jean-Piere.
He’s a friendly sort of guy, with no real hope and so just uses his pity and groveling to scrape by.
There are enough gypsies who play music for their money or other homeless people who sell their papers.
Still, I mostly give my change to him.
This bugs me of sorts, for one.
But it even bugs me more that he’s been known to be using drugs and mostly when I see him in the supermarket, he’s buying beer.
He always tries to hang up a sort of conversation, and always asks for a stipend afterward.
Sometimes I say no, sometimes give him the smallest change I have.
Other times I deliberately leave my wallet at home as to have valid excuse not to have to give him anything.
I’d hate to be fueling his addiction, for this way, it streams straight against so many of my principles.
But, at the same time, I am kind of hooked on him.
I can’t just tell him: ‘ Nope, you can’t have my money, because this and that…’
I’m too weak and soft for that, and I have no idea in what way of seriousness he is on to the shit.
He obviously has mental problems and, of course, I have no idea to what depths they reach and what causes it.
Originating from a French-speaking African country, who knows what he might have been through and what brought him here.
It’s my idea to seek him out some day and talk to him about his origins and perhaps his problems, to form a solid opinion.
But that’ll have to wait, since I’m not feeling like it.
Instead, I’ll write about what’s on my mind right now.
A beggar I’ve come to know around here, called Jean-Piere.
He’s a friendly sort of guy, with no real hope and so just uses his pity and groveling to scrape by.
There are enough gypsies who play music for their money or other homeless people who sell their papers.
Still, I mostly give my change to him.
This bugs me of sorts, for one.
But it even bugs me more that he’s been known to be using drugs and mostly when I see him in the supermarket, he’s buying beer.
He always tries to hang up a sort of conversation, and always asks for a stipend afterward.
Sometimes I say no, sometimes give him the smallest change I have.
Other times I deliberately leave my wallet at home as to have valid excuse not to have to give him anything.
I’d hate to be fueling his addiction, for this way, it streams straight against so many of my principles.
But, at the same time, I am kind of hooked on him.
I can’t just tell him: ‘ Nope, you can’t have my money, because this and that…’
I’m too weak and soft for that, and I have no idea in what way of seriousness he is on to the shit.
He obviously has mental problems and, of course, I have no idea to what depths they reach and what causes it.
Originating from a French-speaking African country, who knows what he might have been through and what brought him here.
It’s my idea to seek him out some day and talk to him about his origins and perhaps his problems, to form a solid opinion.