She had the saddest face, and it was buried in a book. She was sitting on a windy, wet sidewalk near Times Square on a tarp, one more person with cardboard signs asking for money. Maria and I sometimes argue about whether it’s useful to give cash to people who ask for money in that way.

Maria says anyone who does that is needy and in trouble and she usually gives a dollar or two. I gave this girl two dollars and she looked up and gave me the sweetest smile, but her face was very sad. I asked if I could take her photo and she nodded. I wondered about her story, whose daughter she might be, how she came to be sitting out on the street reading a book with a plastic cup occupied by a few quarters.

Most New Yorkers rarely give money to street people, there are a lot of them, and they’ve heard the stories about how the money often goes to liquor and drugs.

Life is hard on the poor and lost these days, nobody wants to spend any money to try and help them any more.  I feel I am surrounded by hard thinking and cold ideologies. I was touched by the pain in her eyes.

But I wanted to take the photo of the sad-faced girl, she gave me a smile and thanked me and went back to reading her book, a novel set in France. I wanted to go  back and offer her $10 for a portrait sitting, but we were already a couple of blocks away.