Walking through lower Manhattan today, strolling Battery Park, taking pictures, reading, breathing American air, I saw this girl passing by, which looked kindly familiar, someone, if I had met her at a concert or a party, I’d surely would have liked to talk to. She had curly hair, and I kinda liked the way she was dressed, a black T-shirt, black pants, not too skinny. Just a little rugged, she seemed to me.
Later, on my way back to the Wall Street subway station, I saw her again. She sat on the sidewalk, holding a cardboard sign that read: “Homeless. Pregnant with twins.”
I didn’t stop. I did not give her any money, any bucks I could have spared. There might be many reasons (the crowd wouldn’t let me stop, I was too shocked, I just spent so much money coming here) or simply: no explanation, no excuse at all.