An Unhappy Experience The Other Day, A Story Of Life Outside.
Life for some and life for others in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
"Before the Bridge"
I was out and about when I decided to visit the man who lives with his dog behind his cardboard wall.
"Under the Bridge"
So I stop at the butcher shop and pick up a chunk of beef shoulder, return home to grill it for a bit, collect a handful of coins and go walking off toward the walled street home bearing friendly offerings.
When I arrive the man is nowhere to be found, where he resides are his dog and another. Wondering where he could be after dark, I walked a bit in each direction looking to see if he was sitting on a corner or looking through some of the area dumpsters.
"By the Bridge"
Curious as to his absence I abandon my search and return to the dogs behind the cardboard wall.
Just as I approach another woman steps up with two dishes of cooked lentils and meat. She commences to unwrapping her gifts for the dogs while speaking in spanish to me. I reply my usual, "No habla espanol," so she smiles and continues her task.
As I hand the meat-and-bone treat to the man's dog, I venture to question the lady, "No maestro (no teacher)?". She replies with a saddened look, "No, no; es enferma (no, he is gone sick). Pneumonia."
Instantly I felt sad, and hope for his health to return.
I wished the woman a good night, told the dogs I would see them later, and returned home with my jar full of coins (set aside for the day I cross paths with him again).
"Well After the Bridge"
ALL IMAGES' original source files taken or made by me. Though not the same location or time of year as those written in this story, these photos do express the "diversity" of the rich and the poor here in Buenos Aires. The first and second photo ("Before the Bridge" and "Under the Bridge") were literally taken less than 200 meters apart.
Thank You!
Hope your 'teacher' gets well soon!
When I read of your exploits I am just a little jealous. I find myself most drawn to back alleys and the bad side of the tracks. A certain honesty and humility of poverty lends me an easy feeling being around those closest to where we all will go in the end.
As I came into the world, I will go out in the same way. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the reality of it all is only poverty will set one free.
Best wishes, 1/0 ic
Thank You, I can definitely relate.
Your words remind me of a time when in a strange and unknown city, where I was broke and hungry, I had humbly asked many on the streets for a cigarette or to spare some change.... those in suits and fancy clothes gave nothing but dirty looks and harsh words, while those whom appeared at least as "down and out" as I was at that point offered a cigarette, coins, and one even both while advising me where the closest shelter was (so I could get a hot meal and even rest if needed).
In a world growing in chaos and selfish deeds, does not an act of kindness itself become rebellion - a form of chaos?
Sometimes we can throw all our chips into the "game" and gain nothing,
other times staking nothing and gain all; often found somewhere between.
And yet when it's over, it's still just a "game"; we all go back into the same box in the end.
I sincerely hope you find what you seek here (on steemit), in Life, and anything after our own individual "game" is reset.
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