On a cold winter’s morning, an old man sat awkwardly against a wall at Sydney’s Circular Quay station. I glanced his way for a moment and walked on along with the throng of people caught up in the bustle of commuting.
On my way home that afternoon, I saw the same man in the same place. He was crumpled over, his head almost on the ground. Two ambulance attendants were crouched beside him. This time my step paused. He was old certainly and wore a nice suit and was clean-shaven. And he was in a very bad way.
Shame rocked me. How torturous for that sick, old man to have endured the coldness of the entire day, sitting on the hard, unforgiving ground. He probably reached out to passersby for help.
No-one stopped. No-one cared. Out of sight, out of mind.
A different season and I again came across an…
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