Write that I feel guilty for my disgust with beggars, and I appreciate beggar composition

I remembered the beggar who used to be on the side of the road.

He always wore a yellowish, tousled hair, which was already greasy and shiny. His face resembles a wood carving carved with a carving knife, with a clear and sharp outline, almost a wood carving complexion. His clothes were patched, a stained trouser leg was missing a small half, a few strips of cloth hung in embarrassment, and he was wearing a pair of worn-out liberation shoes.

There was always a dirty, slightly fat sack beside him.

He was always on the side of the road across the street from my house, and he curled up by the flower pond by the side of the road every day. He is a beggar, but he does not beg, he makes a living by picking up garbage. Towards dawn, he wandered around the streets, picking up leftovers from the nearby food stalls from the previous night, and then went back to sleep by the flower pond.

In society, more and more people are not talented but beggars. Some people also regard begging as a profession, and now there are a large number of beggars in tattered clothes everywhere, in hotels, restaurants, and entertainment venues.

Gradually, the original beggars became wiser, some of them pretended to be sick, pulled the children of the family out on the street, let them sleep on the road, so that more people came to watch the rotten waiters, so that their money became more, some of them could not make a noise, let their flesh and blood come out to beg for money, and at night let the children give them a lot of money they begged, and the children knelt there day and night in order to get more money and be beaten less, but their parents sat idly by, as long as they saw the money, Whether the child is sick or injured, they don't care at all, it's too inhuman.

Once I was in the store, I saw a lot of beggars to beg for money, my mother had no change, but they had to make trouble, and sat down, my mother was afraid of affecting the business and gave a few yuan to send them away, and soon a gang came, and it was the same as the last time, it was not easy for them to "give way", which shows that the beggars have shifted from living to making money.

There is also the phenomenon of rich people begging for money in society, and what I want to say is: "Let there be no beggars in the world, and let more people be at peace!" I also hope that the relevant ** can pay attention to this issue, so that beggars can live a happy life, and at the same time, some punishment measures will be adopted against "fake beggars".

The wind was blowing bitterly, as if wailing.

In the evening, the sky was dark blue, with large floor-to-ceiling windows with curtains hanging from them. Inside the window, I, sitting at a wooden table, on the table is a cup of tea, the teacup is porcelain, very elegant, the tea spits a light smoke, softly pours, there is also a half-covered book on the table, the lamp shines obliquely on the book, the light is a warm goose yellow, outside the window, he, a beggar, walks slowly in the faint twilight potato aftercolor, but there is less leisure, his back is very hunched, it looks very uncoordinated with the body, the face is dirty, there is no appearance at all. Of course, there is also the porter who scolds behind him and the dog who is not afraid of heaven and earth and barks in front of him.

In the cold wind, he was only left with fear.

I, open the door, and the wind goes straight in. I said to him, "Come in."

He opened his mouth slightly, his hands drooped unnaturally, and his eyes rolled around at a loss. I said to him again, "It doesn't matter, come in."

He walked slowly, and he walked in, stepping over the threshold, and I closed the heavy door. He stood in the aisle, refusing to take another step, fear evident from every corner of his face, and his body trembled with fear, like a schoolboy who had made a mistake waiting for the teacher's blow. I went into the house and took a loaf of bread and handed it to him, and he caught it with a trembling hand, and he hesitated for a moment, and ate it in a big gulp, very attentively, but his hand was still shaking slightly.

Actually, what is the difference between beggars and us? It's just that in this society shrouded in money, there are too many distorted things and deformed eyes. Why bother?

It was a very good fish pond, the fish are swimming in it, there is no scruples, but it is necessary to separate a wall in the fish pond, naïve, carefully separate the fish, and it can be ridiculously stipulated that the fish here are called beggars, and the fish here are ......Isn't it a good thing to tear down that wall and face everyone in harmony?

He finished his bread and looked out the window as if he wanted to go out, he was used to the noise and contempt, I opened the door and he walked out slowly. The wind was still blowing, the dog was still barking, but the porter was afraid of the cold and went back. But where did he stand next, I opened the curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows, let the light shine on the road outside, and watched him go away, hoping that there would be a place for him in this world.