The smell.

The awful, reeking scent of dung, sewage, unwashed body odor, and nature's worst at full blast, carried on the breeze towards your flaring nostrils.

Watering eyes blur your vision.

The source of all the appalling stink is a lost soul.

A soul without a home; without a life.

They lie across the dusty and muddied cement sidewalk; sorrow clinging to them in vast clouds of depression.

Their faces are gaunt with hunger, their postures that of one in pain.

They looked injured and pitiful; the poor outcasts of society.

One turns around, and his expression is contorted and haunted with a silent plea.

Shaggy, dingy hair clings to the greasy clothes that grip his blubbery body, which is covered in sweat stains.

They are tattered and ripped, with medium to large holes that allow drafts of cool night air to chill him.

There are several more wandering spirits behind him, wailing and screaming their call for help.

Bones are outlined through the taught, pale skin that hangs from them like a coat off a rack. Missing appendages are plainly shown to earn sympathy from passer-bys.

They are a piteous sight compared to those who live in comfort.

There is a clink of metal against marble stairs.

They show graced smiles for the small tokens, and their pleading eyes show elation for the diminutive fortune.

Another clink of metal. Except this time the sound weakens as I walk away with a small smile splayed across my slender features.