WHO AM I, ANYWAY?

Who am I?

It is a question I ask myself almost everyday. Some days the answers flow freely and easy, like cascading raindrops in a steady stream. Other days, things are not so straightforward.

Who am I, if not a righteous spectator to this strange and off-beat town? A cautious eye-witness to scenes both trivial and tragic. An omniscient onlooker. An ever-present observer. A wily-eyed gaze casting judgement on those around me, expecting little back in return.

I see people young and old caught betwixt the bustling streets and the shadows of tall buildings. Hurried footsteps proceed their every move. Their faces come strained and jaded, along with the cracked paving slabs beneath their feet. Whilst their hallowed frowns and manic movements paint pictures of silent pain. Yep, their anguish is certainly apparent. Their suffering knows no bounds. And still, those fake smiles serve to hide their rainy-day expressions just as the bright lights of the city obscure the roaring clouds above.

But do they care to offer any of their graceless greetings my way?

No. No, they do not.

What am I, then, if not a great protector of this dark and dingy place? Someone to sweep the roadsides and gather fallen leaves from the busy streets. A friend, indeed, with a string of unspoken deeds to my name; such as throwing down cherished crumbs for the pigeons to feed upon, and collecting those little shiny coins from the gutter!

I am a friend to the foxes filing through the trash at night. A companion to the cockroaches crawling out the restaurants and all-you-can-eat buffets. And, of course, a loyal sidekick for the many sewer-rats to stew with, when all is said and done.

But will you come to stew with me?

No. No, you will not.

What am I, if not an entertainer? A proud performer of persuasive poise and grace. A dancing jester for your daring eyes delight. Or, just another crest-fallen clown left crying in the corner...

You can find me with the rest of them strewn out on the side-walk, searching high and low for any kind-hearted handout I can find. Through gritted teeth and a hollow, punch-drunk smile, I remain eager for your empathy. I will gladly sing for any slight semblance of sympathy you might throw my way. And I will happily debase my demeanour, and prostitute my persona, all for your precious pennies and attention.

That's what I do. I serve as your daily reminder of just how cruel this world can be at times...

...and that things could always be worse.

So who am I, if not just another lowly vagrant? A deadbeat? A drifter? A beggar? A bum!? A no-good ugly parasite clinging onto society's pocket? A down-and-out dreamer desperate to get his grubby paws all over your loose-change? A shit-stinking, sign-waving, coin-jangling, tear-jerking...tramp! Look away. Go on, make your lewd comments and cast your stares aside. I mean it! Avert your mollycoddled eyes, hide your face in your scarf, and bury your head in the sand whilst you are at it. I would not blame you if you did...

Because who am I, anyway?

Really?

It's a question I ask myself almost everyday.

[Artwork courtesy of Konstanca Koleva]