Skint

A finely manicured couple, hand in hand, with unnatural elegance, strut swiftly across a poor man's vision. He sits at the pavement kurb, occassionally glancing upwards from his holey old boots in a hopeless attempt to gesture his desperation for a few old coppers. The couple never look back, they never lose confidence, or pride. Perhaps it is denial, ignorance or greed, but the homeless man cannot do anything to manipulate their decision. It is probably more that, they take their way of life for granted. They may have worked hard for what they have achieved, but it is not the man's fault that he cannot feel joy for them; without grace or guilt.

If only they wore his holey old boots, maybe they would understand.