I was peacefully ambling back from my morning caffeine when Gollum appeared.

At first, I mistook him for one of the ubiquitous, noisy, and loathsome local mutts.

But a third glance revealed sandals on his hands, which were two of All Fours.

As I got closer, the poor bastard – a cripple of some sort , maybe 30 – looked up from his lope with a genuine and beatific smile.

I gave him an idiot grin back, and kept going.

He offered a passing motorcyclist a hat, which was duly filled with small bills.

Mr. Churlish here finally clicked, and chipped in. I got a “thank you”, in perfect English.

Genuine gratitude , for which reminder I paid a pittance.


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