theparisreview:At the bus stop, a blind man sells colored pencils.Ballpoint pens, too, at Thanksgivi
theparisreview:At the bus stop, a blind man sells colored pencils.Ballpoint pens, too, at Thanksgiving and Christmas.Ten cents for a pencil, two bits for a pen.Around the corner, a boy from the orphanagegives a bookmark to anyone who drops money into his box—no matter if it’s a nickel or a dollar.A different boy every day, rotating by the month.There are that many boys at the orphanage, I am told,and I am grateful not to be one and fearful that I could be—these boys in their coarse blue suits and thick-soled black shoes,faces alternately fierce and frightenedand in their eyes the sad lights of distant portsfaintly flickering as they repeat the same refrain:Alms for Saint Gregory,the name of their orphanage,the patron saint of shipwrecked sailors,of lost travelers.—Nicholas Christopher, “The Orphanage”Photography Credit Ruben Brulat -- source link