The Homeless In Curfew

A man, maybe sixty or sixty-five years old, approached me on the street as I was hurrying back home. I had stopped to tie my shoes.

‘I do not want money, I do not want money.’ He began, as if trying to reassure me. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders.

He apparently wanted me to take him somewhere and buy him food. I was caught off guard, in the midst of what seemed like a pressing schedule of Things I felt behind with but realised, shortly after, I had SA (Self-Assigned) and which had no TU (True Urgency) or OP (Outside Pressure).