Hope again

The elders stand on street corners. With an extended arm, they say, “Everything is changing.” Thirty and forty years they’ve lived in this neighborhood. Now they drag their possessions out into the street and place price tags on them. What they don’t sell, they drag back inside. The rent keeps going up. The scene reminded me of something I saw in India. But of course, India is a third-world country.

I was feeling a little down so we ordered Thai food to go. When we went to pick it up, a man had passed out drunk in the restaurant’s driveway. The parking attendant brought an orange cone over and put it in front of the unconscious man’s feet so no one would run him over.

I felt hope again.

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