I Didn’t See Her, He Said

Sam and I walk to work together, from my place.

On the corner of Bourke and Exhibition, there was a woman, clearly drunk, obviously homeless, dirty and unkempt, hanging from a pole outside Elephant & Wheelbarrow. I looked at her closely, as we walked passed. She probably wasn’t that old, maybe forty, probably not even. Her gaze was blank and staring off into nowhere. She was quite good looking, or at least, she would have been if not for the grime and the degradation and it struck me, how does that happen? A life of abuse, from family and/or addictions? A life of hardship? A few bad choices? How? 

A flash of her pretty face, together and loved, flashed in my mind, as I looked away. I could see her in another role, competent and succeeding in life, just momentarily. I could see her living another life...

I looked back, she hung from the pole. She didn’t look at me, or see me looking. What will happen to her, I thought? We all walked passed her, seemingly, not caring. Me too. 

I felt sad for her... but, that is not enough.

Sam asked what I was looking at.

That woman.

What woman?

Back there, holding on to the pole, homeless.

He shrugged. I didn’t see her, he said.

That’s kind of the problem, I said.