Post 1577. Sunday August 6
Sunday Photo Fiction
I'm not allowed on the other side so I busk here. When I sing Walk on By, they walk on by; I sing Crossover and they cross to avoid passing me.
In my upturned cap, there's a handful of coppers, a pound coin and a screwed up chocolate wrapper. You're probably thinking ‘he’s on drugs or booze and if I give him money he’ll spend it on his habit’. I can't blame you. I look a little scruffy, very scruffy. Dirty even. You strut past like a peacock pretending not to notice me. I watched you and your mates leaving McDonald's across the road. You probably weren’t even hungry. But me? I’m bloody starving and I’ll probably have another day without food.
See him, on the other side? Him with trendy clothes and a smug look on his face? Last time I saw him I was Jack the Lad; even gave him a bed for the night and a square meal. Now he pretends not to know me. But I don’t care.
No, actually, I do.
Smile. Sing your heart out. Give ‘em a dose of soul music. Show ‘em Elvis lives. Soon I’ll cross to the other side. I will.
Please God, please say I will.
For Sunday Photo Fiction where the photo is supplied by J Hardy Carroll