SAD GIRL ON WOOSTER ST. (6.21.06)
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She dropped her face into her legs as I approached. I could not hear her crying, but I could feel the heat of her tears. There on the sidewalk she was beginning to fall apart in the public anonymity a city of 8 million people provides. I drifted by with a camera held upside down by my leg, and not wanting to disturb her misery, I never stopped walking.

The following poem is by Dr. Maya Angelou.

Alone    
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
 And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.


  Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.




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