Philosophy and the Homeless

I went for a walk a couple of days ago to the park. I was walking in one of the nicest neighborhoods of Mexico City, everything around me was gorgeous. The artificial lakes, the dark green trees that kept the mist from the rain leftovers, even art strategically placed along the park so that you always have something to entertain your eyes and your mind with. Not just that, but also the smell of evening coffee and cinnamon churros spiced the air making the walk most enjoyable.

As I kept walking I noticed a homeless person walking in the opposite direction I was walking to. He was about my age (29), and I couldn’t stop myself from noticing his face, his demeanor, his stance, his eyes. The guy looked lost. His eyes were pointing either up, or to the sides, never towards people. It looked as if he hadn’t seen anyone directly in the eyes for years. He was very dirty, his pants and shirt made up for a singular, black stain. He was also carrying a small bag, a bag, I was sure, had all his belongings in it.

He stood out massively at the scene. But this is not unusual, there’s no shortage of homeless people in the cities. But this guy was around my age. This guy was walking in the same park and yet our experiences couldn’t be more different. He was lost in his mind. I felt terrible empathy for him.