A young lady was sitting on the sidewalk just past 12th on Madison looking dejected. I stopped to talk. It was awkward, but she was receptive to taking a meal. The conversation didn't develop and I moved on, wondering how to improve connectivity.
I descended to Alaskan Way and ascended to Broadway and Madison without finding anyone else to engage, but there was enormous sound coming from the performance, and I walked that way. After I passed it I noticed a man sitting next to a building selling Native American dolls. He was Eskimo. His girlfriend was around the corner, incapacitated from alcohol. He said he was an alcoholic, too. We talked for a while. He asked if I read the Bible and said he had spoken with Jesus. he declined a meal.
Around the corner on Pine Street, two men held signs. One said "alcoholic," and the other held a sign saying he was looking for a sugar mama. We chatted. They were hungry and I relieved myself of the second brown-bag lunch.
The writer
As I headed for home I noticed a young man, 26, sitting on a chair with a typewriter on a milk crate. He was writing impromptu items for customers. He got the idea from people in New Orleans who did that. He was living out of his car and traveling around the country. By this time I had no change to pay him to write something for me and no meals to pass out, but it was a nice chat. The conversation seemed strangely normal.I'm going through a transition of how I engage people. I think I need to take more time to listen and learn. I should plan to take longer on future jaunts.
Meals served so far: 41
Ubuntu
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