• A Difference
    I walked down a dark, depressed street. All around me was poverty, though I somehow saw the beauty in this. Poverty brought families closer, it made lovers forever. With my camera in hand, I pushed my index finger down on the shutter button. I took a picture of a man and possibly his daughter, who looked tired and hungry, yet content, content and happy that they still had each other. As I began to walk away I heard the man’s struggled words “P-please sir, could you spare just a few cents? It’s not for myself, but my daughter, if she doesn’t eat she’ll die. Please. She’s all I have left.” He stifled a sob. I looked into his eyes and it was almost impossible to say no. I saw so many emotions in just one look. Pain, sadness, hope, and love. I pulled out about fifty-cents, much more than he needed, from my pocket. It wouldn’t hurt me; I was funded by the Federal Art Program after all. I started to walk away. “Thank you, sir. You’ve just saved a life.” The man called after me. I turned around and gave him a reassuring smile as I continued walking. My job was not easy, most people looked at you like you were a freak if you were as clean and well fed as I was. I felt as if I were rubbing it in. Most of the time I faced what could have been my life. Why did the government give artists jobs, but everyone else had to suffer? It was wrong, but I was grateful for my being so fortunate. I would take many more photographs, but never would I forget that man. I smile about it still, knowing that I made a difference.