This place is my home. The newness is gone. The streets have been walked.
The people are familiar. The sounds resinate within me.
Yet there is a part that goes on unseen. A crowd of people that would barely be noticed.
They are looked at, without being seen. They are heard, without being listened to.
There is a man among them.
His clothes equally tattered and worn. His hands and face equally as dirty.
This man is poor and dirty, but the richest man I know. For he possesses something so many of us lack.
Two men walked by him and chose to see him. They pulled out two bananas and handed them over.
This man. This poor and dirty man, is the richest man I know.
He took one banana, and gave the other to a poor and dirty man.
For this man, as poor and dirty as he may be, is the richest man I know.
This man possesses something many of us lack.
He gave away half of what he had been given. He loved someone more than he loved himself.
He trusted he would eat even without the second banana.
He is the man who had two bananas, but loved enough to only keep one.