Beggers on Forte Street

That she is blind there is no doubt.

With her disfigured eyes wide open, she sits chanting to attract passersby, rocking back and forth, her hand holding the open jar for change. Sparse betel leaf stained teeth jute out with the eerie song she sings.

On the other side of the narrow lane, another stands, quiet, almost calm, only a slight bend from the waist first draw attention, then I see it, the mangled legs that barely let her stand. She leans against the wall, her fair skin taunting her dismal fate.

After the initial shock of seeing such inhuman suffering, the next moment in time trickles by and I rush past them towards my life, back to my own reality.