During one of our many walks through the city of Barcelona, we came acros a homeless man that had a little puppy and a fully grown cat with him. A sudden feeling of sadness filled me from the inside. I felt extremely sorry but also helpless toward the animals and this man.
The first thought that came into my mind was that the animals could always go somewhere else to receive proper food and a warm place to sleep. But that would never happen. This is the life they know; nothing worse and noting better. This person they are with is their master, and they will love him till the end of time. At the end of the day, it is them that bring some happiness and laughter into the life of this man. All of his earthly bellongings fit into a small trolley: 1 pitch black cat; 1 little playfully puppy; very old, used, soiled clothing; a blanket or two and a carton box for the coldest of cold nights. Yet he looks content.
What is it that make people give up to live a life like this? Or is he the one that can turn around and ask what makes people like us live the lifes we do? Constantly on the run, trying to outwit our competition, our neighbour and sometimes even our own brother. Should we feel sorry for him, or he for us? Was this a conscious choice on his side, or was he forced into this life?