Er saß vor dem kleinen Postamt in Runaway Bay und starrte vor sich hin. Solange er keine Antipsychotika intus hatte, war ein himmlicher Ausdruck auf seinem Gesicht. Ich hätte ihn für Jesus gehalten, wenn ich vor 2000 und Jahren gelebt hätte. Der gesegnete Bettler, der mich befreundete und die Gelegenheit gab, großzügig zu sein.
I am grateful for a man named Brady who sat in front of the Post Office and asked nicely if I had anything to share. I did. We became friends. And one day, after I'd given him food, money, T-shirt, shoes (which he ordered courtesy of my mom) and other miscellaneous things, he offered me a couple oranges he had to spare. That shocked the shoes off passersby and made my heart smile. If I believed in reincarnation, I'd say Brady was Christ returned to earth. But I don't take that sort of thing too literally. Each and everyone has a bit of God-ness inside. Thanks to all the people and things that help me recognise the divine.
