For two years now, I don’t leave the house without one or two ten-dollar bills in my pocket, even though I have given up getting snacks, or take-out food, my budget is very tight these days. But i might meet god in disguise. Today it is a frail white lady with long white hair like me. Hesitantly she walks up to me as I am turning from feeding the parking meter. She starts almost inaudibly: “Can I ask you a question?” I move closer looking straight into her big pale blue eyes: “Sure.” Without thinking, I am already pulling out that bill, how could I not. She is about my age, late sixties, just by pure luck I am not in her shoes. She nods grateful, but says immediately: “Do you have another ten?” I don’t, but I find four more beat up one-dollar notes in my wallet. She asks me for my name, I ask for hers. Suzanne moves closer and confides: ”I’ll tell you something, I have been here for 3 hours, and you are the first one to give, they all just walk by.“ Trying to hide my ache, I sigh: ”Yeah, I know…” Not that I really know what it is like to be out on the street like her. But I know rejection, not being looked in the eye, not being seen or heard, these are universal experiences. How lucky I have been – some of us starve to death. If not physically, then spiritually. And those who can’t help but look away are perhaps starved souls themselves.    Who am I to know!    As I walk on, I am sensing bottomless need in this affluent neighborhood of the Gourmet Ghetto.