Walking late at night I passed by this man about my age sleeping on the streets, which is very very rare here.

In about 60 square blocks, there's been only 6 that I seen...In a year...In a city with a population of about 1.2 million.

He was on cardboard and had wrapped his things in bundles since he didn't even have a backpack or a duffle bag.

They're called abañiles...They're workers to do any and all jobs.

They work all week for maybe $15-$25 a day and at the end of the week they go home to see their families.

It's a hard, poor, rough life...I said "Good Night" and offered him a little bit for a coffee and sweet bread in the morning.

He smiled and said "No thank you, I have some" and patted his belongings he had wrapped with rope.

He wasn't mad or insulted I had asked...He was self sufficient as long as he could, that he would sing for his supper.

Not depend on anyone else even if offered a hand.

That is some fucking AMAZING strength.

In that second, as I walked on, since I was on a gummy, I instantly daydreamed of what it would feel if our spots were switched.

If I didn't have friend/family support, retirement etc and I was just hustling like that.

Like the system has collapsed and it's "Have a skill or starve" time.

And even though I think I'm tough, I felt REAL fear...Because I'm not materialistic, but I've got soft.

I've lost the way, I'm not as tough, strong and capable as I was say a year ago.

I've become too accustomed to sleeping, eating, watching TV, playing online, taking gummies and goofying around.

I've become what I despise...A fucking soft dumb ass...Hate soft men...They are the reason for all the misery in the world.

I do have an excuse, because waiting on something, but that doesn't mean I can't start prepping hard again.

So that lights a fire under me to get back on the grind.

That man had more moxie, inner strength and fortitude sleeping on the street, while hustling to make enough to eat than most of us do with our money, property, fancy cars, career and degrees.

He reminded me of those men in the 30's, who were unemployed and just road the trains and hustled to sent money home to their families while they slept under trees or on doorsteps.

Real men with real codes of behavior.

None of these pussies who whine, cry about everything.

My respects to that man.

He was literally a 1930's Hobo, which the meaning has been forgot with passage of time, but it was an Honorable job...A travelling Handyman...Jack of all Trades.