We all know how to behave when using public transport. We all know to sit quietly, to say nothing, to neglect those not behaving, to oversee the homeless and poor.
I travelled by suburban this weekend and a homeless guy sat next to me, began to talk to me and spoke about his life, his love, possibilities and death.
Pascal was a punk, he drank beer while talking to me, his hair was bright red and in the end he smelled truly awful. He knew. But as he said, he couldn’t do nothing without a place to stay.
He started conversation with questioning me, If I bothered him smelling next to me. I was scared of the man talking with himself as he stepped into the train,
He looked at me with his restless eyes and as I had to go 30 minutes ‚till reaching the city center I talked to him. After a few minutes he started to blush and told me, that none spoke to him that way for months. I was just friendly, I was not special in any way but he felt better with every word we spoke.
We talked about being alone- he had a flat for three months but couldn’t stand the silence, about love- he had no girlfriend for now but is almost 22 and possibilities- most people walk past him sitting somewhere.
He asked me to travel two stations further because he wanted to buy something to drink at Zoo station. I had thing to do and couldn’t but at the end of our conversation he took my hand, bowed his head and let me go with only one sentence:
„Mary, it was an honor to me, it truly was- if someone is ever bad to you, you’ll know where to find me.“
this man, the drunken, smelly and strange punk changed a lot due to the few words we spoke.
Sad, that only few people will ever know.