There was a chillingly cold breeze blowing in from the Pacific. Night fell, and the streets of the normally vibrant city emptied. I strolled toward the pier, the same place where only two months ago was packed with bustling crowds of curious tourists and sightseers. Now there was only the occasional couple braving the cold in one another’s embrace, and some random commuters trying to rush home for the long weekend ahead. Even seagulls, abundant in the hot, humid summer, seemed to have hibernated.
Beneath the yellow glow of street lights I wandered alone. Somehow, a sore twist of fate and missed connections landed me this moment of reflection in
A man and his friend pushed a cart filled with plastic bags and salvaged bottles down the pavement. Another clung onto a soiled and ragged sleeping bag as he limped on. A few lay on cardboards close to holes that vented warm air as the subway rushed past. The clanking of coins in a cup sounded as I passed a dark alleyway. I looked down, only to be confronted by the sorry scene of an unshaven man in tattered rags huddled together trying to keep warm. There was a pungent stench of unwashed clothes and frayed human hair that had weathered the elements for far too long. In a set of sunken eyes was the sight of pity, sorrow, and of destitution. “Change… Give me change…” For a fleeting moment, I wondered if he meant spare coins or was begging to some unknown force to somehow suddenly transform his current sad fate.
On top of a flagpole, a gigantic star spangled banner, perhaps mockingly too big and majestic, gently waved and slightly wavered in the wind.
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