Thursday, February 19, 2004

I was standing by the recycling bins getting rid of week's worth of tins, bottles and jars when my nose detected the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol. Before the brain had time to process this I heard an Irishman's voice: "That's right, you rule the world. It is a nice day isn't it?" I turned and looked into the face of an old man, scuffed and crumpled like a discarded paper bag, but he was already moving away. I finished sorting the recycling and counted my blessings. It is a nice day and even the smallests acts can make a difference.

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