The Weight of Being Seen

I walked past the same man on the corner three times today. He sits there with his head bowed, a small cardboard sign resting against his knees, and most people just walk around him like he is part of the sidewalk. The first time, I was busy checking my grocery list and didn’t even look down. The second time, I felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt, but I kept walking because I didn’t know what to say or how to help. By the third time, I realized that my avoidance was a way of protecting my own comfort. We are so good at looking through people, at turning human beings into scenery so we don’t have to confront the reality of their struggle. It is easier to be blind than to acknowledge that we are all just one bad turn away from the same pavement. What does it cost us, really, to simply acknowledge another person’s presence?

Mirka Krivankova has captured this profound sense of invisibility in her beautiful image titled A Beggar. It reminds me that every person we pass carries a story that deserves to be seen. Does this image change how you look at the people you pass on your own daily commute?