>>3321274>>3321277>>3321282>>3321283>>3321309>>3321311chosis7Collapsed on a hustling sidewalk in Toronto. Stroke? Alcohol intoxication? Hypoglycemic syncope? Thousands of Torontonians walk around him in the hour I witness. Every single pedestrian notices him, it's impossible not to. His face is concealed by a hood. This man could be your father, brother or son. At least check his face to see if you know him!
His unresponsive body is cold and limp. Pupils constricted. How long he has been here? "This man needs help can I use your phone" is not a phrase the locals respond to as I am ignored thrice. He needs a naloxone injection like a banker needs a paycheck.
At first I thought he was lost but it quickly became clear he was stranded. Stranded by a society that does not value productivity insolvency. A stripped gear does not increase output of the GDP machine. Socially invisible. "Not my problem". Perhaps less afraid of him and more afraid of what he represents. Abject failure to integrate into the social network. His presence on the sidewalk incites unwelcome introspective thoughts inside us. The concept of an old man dying man alone far away from anyone who ever loved him forces each passerby to assess their reflection in the ego-mirror and review how they define success. "Could this be me next week?". A quick text to a loved one acts as acute chemical absorbance for this aberration.
