Stories from outside your window part 7

His days were pretty much the same to everybody but him.He found so many details differentiating one day from another, he just had to smile when people asked him ''That's all you do?''
.His schedule was pretty simple if one would sum it up : waking up whenever mood struck him, washing up, getting something to eat and just enjoy the day for all its flaws or good things it brought.
Washing up wasn't an impossible thing to do, hence he had a small fountain near the place he slept, where he rudimentary brushed his teeth using salt as toothpaste and his finger as brush. Besides, the friendly-looking, proud beer-belly owner, proprietor of a bar a couple blocks away where he spent most of his time, allowed him to take a shower every once in a while in the personnel private toilet.
With food, that was something else. He didn't eat every day. That was luxury. The nearest social centre was three miles away and it was taking him a lot on foot.
Plus, the centre had its hours for breakfast and lunch or dinner and counted seats.It could not fit more people than the seats at tables.He sometimes was left out, hence everybody else was always pushing to get in.He was about 60 years old, grey haired, not fat but not thin either, his constantly red cheeks showed he wasn't lacking health either.
He was going to the park. He liked hanging out there. He had taken his lunch. There wasn't much hassle to get in today. The sun was shining bright, a typical May day.He got seated at a bench.The park looked quiet and relaxed, just the thing he needed and liked. There were kids trying the swings or playing different games, watched closely by the more and more impatient mothers.
He was contemplating on his life.
The life of others. His connection with the outer world. He was living in a world of his own. There were no material values for him, no schedule,just a simple and easy life, the way he thought it should be in the first place. He liked contemplating. Besides he didn't have much to do anyway. He used to have a family , a job, a home, a safe living, but it all had ended when he had lost his wife and infant in a fire.
He had fallen into a depression soon afterwards and even though he had managed to break free from his memories and past, he could never start a new family again. Jobs came and went, houses likewise till one point where he gave it all away for a simple existence.All that he had made after his depression had gone to various environmental groups and drug-free associations.

He had felt that was the way to break himself free of what he was calling now outer-world.He looked at the mothers minding their offsprings.
Their faces and constant watch-checks made think think they were the career type-the ones that'd leave their kids with so-called babysitters and get along with their business rather than spend some actual time with them and try to teach them or create a special environment for their kids to grow in. And the kids looked like they'd seen a green space and breathed fresh air for the first time in their lives. SUV's were waiting the moms-kids convoy that soon took its departure.He was left almost alone in the park, sharing its thoughts with just a few pensionates that were reading newspapers.
He was thinking about people. People that he never gotten to be. Yet he could relate to them from his imagination.People that cared more about going out to dinner than looking after their kids. People that wore brand clothes but ate at McDonald's just to show off.
People that payed 15 thousand euros on a watch or jewelry whilst the same amount would feed hundreds.
People that buyed luxury magazines but couldn't afford going on holidays, or visiting 5 star hotels or buying a yacht. Just the thought of these kinds of people drooling over mate pages of colorful photos in magazines made him annoyed.
He wasn't part of the group, nor he wanted to be. His once tragic fate and now simple life were more than enough. Actually he was thankful for not having much nowadays, cause the more one had, the more one wanted.
He considered himself blessed that life hadn't given up on him all these years.Hours passed. It was time for him to get going. He left the park, shaking his numb limbs, taking deep breaths.On his way to his carton-based lair, he met some fellow street-sleepers with whom he chatted more time. Every one of them had a storyto tell, may it be a personal one or just something they might've witnessed during the day
.Some stories veered into nonsense terittory, but it was beter having a laugh or a discussion rather than scrapping through litter for a rotten banana or thrown-away sandwich. And these examples were top-A suppers.He reached his ''home''.
Newspapers topping cartons topping rags topping garbage.
If one would have to describe his resting place in a few words. Dark had put its hand onto day, he didn't know the time, nor did he want to.He put a jacket on cause night might turn tricky and sometimes rainy and said a prayer.
The pillow made of ripped clothes looked the least uncomfortable but this wasn't a spa.
He fell asleep, heavily snoring.
Never to wake up again the next morning. During the night someone had thrown a halfway-finished cigarette next to his piles of papers, creating a spark of fire that soon spread cause of the abundancy of fire-friendly material.
He hadn't even made in time to wake up to save himself.
And all this time he hadn't given up on his life, nevertheless the lows he had been going through. But now life had a vengeance, life had given up on him.....