, , , , , , , ,

For some reason, it seems like waiting for the bus in the early morning hours brings out more strange people than mid-day.

A man walking by, jingling change, wearing a rucksack, and repeatedly asking if anyone had cigarettes for sale.  

His walking by lead me to notice that the man standing in front of me had several, somewhat large, ticks. Both verbal and physical. He made small whooping noises and toted a suitcase along with him.

The cigarette man walked to the crosswalk, where a motorcycle cop was standing, kicking something from the street to the curb. The guy stopped talking and stood up tall while he waited. At this point, the man with the tick struck a match and lit a cigarette.

Perhaps the least unusual, but most disturbing, was the slumped over homeless man on the park bench.


Living in a big city, I see homeless people often. It’s not uncommon to see bodies lying in abnormal places. Motionless, on the ground, sleeping from sickness or boredom. At first, I was always worried when I came across such a scene, wondering if they were dead or alive. But time and exposure has made me indifferent. I hardly notice the living bodies anymore. I disturb myself sometimes.