Yellow blouse sitting opposite has already taken out her little purse to give the poor woman some change. Not too willingly, she makes a point of showing. Her funny facial contortions, “It’s not my fault, what are governments doing? These people come here and it’s up to us to feel guilty and have enough compassion to give them whatever little we have. Coffee with a friend this morning – on me! – he’s going through a hard time – dinner with another tomorrow – and now this poor mother with a child, I live in a shack near the station, please…”
But the mother turns out to be wealthy, i.e. one of us, and is only dragging her child through the subway train to get a seat. A tattered kick-scooter creaks along the woman’s daughter, in scanty summer clothes; misleading ideas of poverty for compassionate nearsighted people, now zipping up their purses one after the other.