Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust – John Webster
One afternoon, while I was out running through my neighborhood, I came across an old man sitting by himself, quietly reading, on a park bench – a bench that had only recently been re-installed by the town.
Now, my neighborhood is not all that big and I pretty much know everyone. But the old man was not familiar to me.
Not at all.
He was fairly well dressed, and certainly not ragged or homeless