My grandfather called me at 5:30 this morning, reminding me to wear long-johns. Now, I am glad that he did: it is deathly cold outside.
I always purchase a copy of "Our Voice" when I am in this end of town. Today, the peddler was in rough shape: his eyes were black and swollen; the blood oozing from his nose and mouth was a thick black syrup, speckled white from the frost. It makes me angry. Firstly, who jumps a fucking homeless guy? Secondly, that guy is the least deserving of anyone: he puts his in everyday, six in the morning to nine at night; suffering abuse from the priviledged passerbys all year long. And some asshole has the nerve to kick is ass and steal his money.
There is no justice.
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