CHAPEL STREET

I live in South Yarra, a fairly affluent area of Melbourne – mind you we live in an apartment a little bigger than a shoe box. On my way to get groceries I have to pass an array of exclusive boutiques like Collette Dinnigan and Sass & Bide, I also have to pass the beggars that line the streets. Most of them are regulars & know that I’m a local – therefore I’m always targeted. Some don’t say a word; they just hang their head & put out their hat to collect loose change. Others will follow you & hound you till you give in to them. There are a couple who busk and occupy the same spot each day, there is one who strums away on a toy guitar oblivious to the pain he is inflicting on those around him. Most of them have an intellectual impairment or are mentally ill. I sometimes stop in wonder at just how little separates me from these characters & it terrifies me. Perhaps that is why I always give in to them, I usually refuse to give them money but take them into MacDonald’s to buy a meal instead, and they’re always appreciative. Sometimes I’ll cross the road or go the back way just to avoid them; sometimes I just can’t bear to see them – the shoppers passing them by, pretending they don’t even see them, like they’re pieces of litter missed by the kerb-sweeper.