A not santé man is sniffing an unknown substance from a tiny little bottle, not visible to the public other than me, dressed in striped costume pants, reebok sneakers too old and too used to be called retro and nothing else but a waistcoat on his upper body. It's October and he's standing In the middle of the street. In bright daylight.

Some, may call him a nutter, and would be disgusted by only the sheer look of him. Some, maybe like me, may look at him and perhaps give him a small smile. Because who am I to judge, his life's miseries and who am I to reject, to discard another persons faith in a life I know nothing about? In fact, I will never know what brought him to the exact minute he's standing in front of me and neither will I know about the next.