Living in the cotton-wool cradle of our own limited consciousness until something strikes us?
I was passing by one of the financial buildings in the West End a few days back when this array of old newspapers and cardboard messages captivated my attention.
The first message reads:
Homeless + pennyless Ex-services please help and spare change for a bed & breakfast tonight out the cold + wet please help if you can thanks + god bless
The second message that lied next to drums in a plastic bag and went:
These are Bill that sleeps here's drums to give to his 8yr old daughter. So please don't throw away I will be back to collect after my hospital appointment later today. Thank you.
So the next time when you or me nag about some piece of piss, let's try to think about Bill that sleeps here! I'm sure we've got it much easier than him.