Everyone on our neighbor hood knew the homeless man. He was old, around the age of 50. Every day he would sit down on the corner of the road, but he was never sad. My parents always told me to stay away from him, but that never stopped me. I would talk to him almost everyday, I would give him some of my left over dinner, and we would just sit down and talk. He always told me stories of his past, his dad, who died from unknown diseases, and his mom, who threw him out of the house a year later. He wandered into an orphanage until he was 18, and he left. He tried to get a job often, but there was just no openings. He gave up after 4 years, and retreated back to the city. In his depression he turned to beer, until he had no... [Read More]
Tags: The Homless Man, Love, Death