We walked the streets in Montreal, sight seeing, enjoying the crisp fall/winter air. The buildings hold such history. We don't speak the language, we can make out some though. But the one thing we could definitely understand was the cup. No matter what the language, an out reached hand with a cup, asking for spare change is understood.
Does not matter what it represents or how it is judged, the point is all the same. There are people who live on the streets, people who are hungry and people who have no home of their own.
Makes absolutely no sense, and it is easier to ignore than to acknowledge.
We stood at the light waiting to cross the street, a man in many clothes, sweater, two hats, big boots and mitts rummaged through the trash. He did not look around, he just dove in. We hustled along, shopping, sight seeing and enjoying the city while a man ate trash.