I just ignored the junkies taking their fix in the laundrette, I've been using that place for ten years.
In the old days I tried to listen to their sad stories.
Then I tried to reason with them, make them keep their voices down, and stop getting in other people's way.
Then I got mad at them and they generously retorted by crapping outside my front door.
I just ignored the junkies, until this immigrant women with her little son came in to collect her laundry.
She really looked scared.
It made me mad again, but I didn't say anything while the junkies sang that good ol' song: "excuse us for the mess we've made, we'll be back again tomorrow"
They left, and I tried to look at the woman in an apolegic way, building bridges.
She looked at me too:
You're all bums, you white people.