The smell of my city

 

This is a beautiful city.

But don't be too jealous. It's not all fairytales and rainbows here.

Today is a tale from our dark side.

Like every place I have ever been, they hate poor people here too! But in an unreciprocated way, poor people do seem to like it here anyway. They hang out on sidewalks begging, some quietly, sprawled sleeping, with maybe a little hat to collect for them and sometimes their friends.

There is collective begging here!

But mostly it is singular begging. I know many beggars by sight now. But mostly the theatrical ones, like the man with no arms walking ably along pushing his wheelchair all through the city, the old woman with a tiny cane bent so close to the ground that her head nearly touches it, or the guy who has taken posession of a bench on the promenade.

Actually I'm not sure I recognize the bench guy. I just recognize his bench.

There are a lot of beggars and homeless people.

Because homeless people and beggars like to use bathrooms, this city has come up with a clever solution.

Don't have any bathrooms!

Thus the smell of my city.