Between where he sleeps and where he buys his milk, a woman begs for money. She’s there every day but he doesn’t always see her.
Yesterday, caught in his own trauma, he felt the magnitude of hers. When he handed her a five dollar bill, her hand touched his. His eyes filled with tears.
Since then he’s been sorting out what all this means. Everyone is so caught up in finding his own Einstein, he tells me, we don’t learn from what is here.