The homeless person

I will need to be very discreet telling this story and therefor leave out some specific (but saddening) happenings to safeguard the identity of the person.
The compromised version of this true story is;
I get a phone call to collect a person *X.
I arrive at an open field on an open campsite.
There on the hill X stands with all belongings. Few suitcases and some big bags.
So I pick up the first big suitcase and like a rocket from underneath blows a tent into the distance.
The tent unfolded and it was a very very windy day on top of that hill.

So I run after it like a mad man but unable to catch it I had to abort the chase at the fence.
The owner X of the tent is laughing loudly on the top of the hill.
So we drive direction St Andrews to the final location.
Turns out this person was homeless on and off for a good few months at that point.
Completely worn out but highly educated and eloquent down to earth.

We sorted out some improvisation accommodation for that night.
Next day the person X stayed at my house as the police got her evicted from the location she was unwarranted to stay.

After 3 days of immersion to find a safe place we came up with an idea to buy a cheap caravan and find a more permanent location to shelter X.

In the process of finding a suitable place for the caravan I asked one of my closest friends and colleagues if we could temporarily put it in his garden, to which he replied that she could stay in his house.
X is now 1 month later still living at the house and is working a job.

Again I had to leave out some details to tell this story but the bottom line is that our social safety-net is not suitable for everyone’s circumstances and there is the concern about not being able to address issues due to underlying apprehension for seeking help due to judgment.
Very few people knew about the living status of X and I would have probably not known if this tent hadn’t blown away.
X is safe and I have cleared some karma of my own.

Special thanks to the person who took her under!

The girl with the piano hand

A cheerful girl jumped in at the taxi rank in South street.
I was playing a beautiful background piano piece by Martin Kohlstedt.

While asking her if she likes piano music she replies “I was told don’t get it”
Me; “Sorry how do you mean”
She; “My piano teacher told me I have no sense for music”
She got piano lessons from 6 till 10Y years old, her hand could not even reach an octave (8 keys) So the teacher made her stretch her tiny hands every day.
Till this day she has deformed thumb bones which she showed me with a big smile.