Good Bless

Walking down Købmagergade, with tourists, shoppers, students, UNICEF volunteers, bicycles... 

They don't see that man and his dog. 

I don't see him either. Nor his stuffed puppy. I see the sign. Because I am obsessed with words in the streets, remember? 

I see the few words handwritten in Danish. Just when I am ready to turn my head and walk away, I notice a few more words at the end of his note.

Words in translation:

PLEASE HELP ME. GOOD BLESS.

I want to capture a photograph of the sign.

Now, I see the man. I don't want to be intrusive with my camera. His gaze is turned towards the floor - or his fluffed puppy. I snap from afar.

I get closer, he is still looking at the gray concrete squares. Good. I can snap again.  

The UNICEF lady seems to be pointing at him. Or walking towards him. She is probably as bored as he is from being ignored systematically by the walkers. 

Charity and pain remain invisible.

I look more closely at the sign. I stumble upon the last two words: "good" and "bless". 

good bless 

The man has lost faith in God. Not in good. The man has a fluffed puppy.

That man who is silently shouting to the world his vanished faith in god. He is trying to remind us about good, silently, as we all walk by. 

In silence.