The Moral Of The Story Is…

Christmas. They all crawl out of the dark, blinded by the light of candles. The beggars, the drug-addicts, the homeless.

Please mam, could you spare me a dime?

Blackened nails, yellowed fingers, grey teeth, empty eyes.

The rozy-cheeked and starru-eyed all feel like helping and ask:

What will you use the dime for?

Eh… food…?

A woman darts into the supermarket and comes out with a loaf of bread. Later, a man gives a dime but adds quite firmly that it is not to be spent on drugs, no-no.

My turn. An addict in an nylon orange-coloured training suit asks me for money. I catch myself asking…

What for?

But have already decided to give him a dime, no matter what.

A beer. he says, For Christmas?

I give him ten euros instead. If drinking is the way he wants to celebrate Christmas, so be it. It’s his money to spend now, no longer mine.