Life of a stranger: DESTITUTE

  Every morning he wakes up and without delay, goes to his place of work. I wonder if he sleeps at all, he is always on time, sometimes he comes before dawn. He goes about his business quietly, just sweeping away, while he sweeps, his bag is strapped to his side, as if he is scared he would loose it.
   When he is done, he sits in the street corner, and wave frantically at waving passing cars, sometimes he flashes his brown teeth or stand up from his duty post.
  His line of job is tedious one, risky most of the time, filthy at all times. No matter how well he sweeps, I can't shake the fact that he sits in the street corner,gets sprayed with muddy water on raining days, buried in dust when the sun is out. His skin is a pale dark colour, he didn't know blacks gets sunburn, but if he knew am sure he would not care.
   As the sun goes to sleep, he goes home, carrying is pack of rubbish, like santa carry his bag of gifts, he does not go 'ho ho' he is not really a happy man. He curves his mouth only when he is offered a green note and bares his brown teeth when it is "better life".