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the moral of the story is…

published: 2014-12-29

Christmas. They all crawl out of the dark, blinded by the light of candles. The beggars, the drug-addicts, the homeless.
Please mam, could you spare me a dime?
Blackened nails, yellowed fingers, grey teeth, empty eyes.
The rozy-cheeked and starru-eyed all feel like helping and ask:
What will you use the dime for?
Eh… food…?
A woman darts into the supermarket and comes out with a loaf of bread. Later, a man gives a dime but adds quite firmly that it is not to be spent on drugs, no-no.
My turn. An addict in an nylon orange-coloured training suit asks me for money. I catch myself asking…
What for?
But have already decided to give him a dime, no matter what.
A beer. he says, For Christmas?
I give him ten euros instead. If drinking is the way he wants to celebrate Christmas, so be it. It’s his money to spend now, no longer mine.

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