For some reason today, I remebered this homeless woman in, of all places, Santa Monica.
She had what appeared to be 6 months worth of urine, diahorrea and menstrual blood in a disturbingly coloured swathe down the middle of her lower half. I was afraid of her. Why?
I don't really know. I only had to see her for a minute or so, no contact or communication.
Still there was something about her particularly that shocked me, possibly the blood and the reminder that all those stains actually mean something. They have a reason. A message, a timeline.
The mundane and private aspects of a persons life, skewed and exposed.

Her utter disregard and misery beamed out of her through her overpowering stench, assualting everyone without her doing a thing, making everyone attracted to her plight, if only for a pointless, pity filled second.

Today I laughed about it, in a bewildered, incredulous sort of way.
I'd seen it, yet I still couldn't imagine it. How? Why?
Chuckling about it to myself as I lay there on a stretch of soft grass, shoes off, on my lunch break from my well paid job doing nothing special, in expensive jeans, eating delicious sushi, listening to my iPod, an utterly perfect day surrounding me.

The only surprising thing, is that for once, I didn't hate everything that I am.