Shame

He looked above, below, around, and beyond those who passed by. He went about the business of washing himself in the public fountain, feet emerged in the water, stripped down to his still white undershirt, as if he was in the privacy of his own bathroom. In homelessness and helplessness, he washed himself with a blue towel dipped in the water, wrung out, and used to wipe away the street dirt. Perhaps even a little angry, he refused to look the others in the eye. It was only by chance that I got a glimpse of the shame that he was trying to hide.