Charles Smith Monologue

It happened a long time ago… I was here in Sydney, Australia with my first real job; 15 years have passed since then... It stayed in my mind for a long time, that one cold, grey and gloomy winter’s day outside that block of flats. It mustn't have been before 3 o’clock. It makes it hard now to forget what happened to the Papadopoulos family; Where did they go? What did they do? I think about them living out of town... as I, myself am here living in the harbour... begging for food from any unsuspecting sailor that passes by. This of lack confidence within me is like an elephant without a stomach … what about the future, what am I going to eat? What’s the weather going to do? Will I die like my parents … from the bubonic plague? Bitten by fleas, that travel on mice, rats and some even say
“Why did I, Charles Smith have to be a Real Estate Agent?”
“Why did the Australian Government lift the ‘White Australia Policy’?”
“Why did Mr Papadopoulos want to sue me?”
“Why didn’t I see it coming?”
“How stupid am I?”
“How was it possible for me to lose so much?”
“Should I work for him?”
“What is going to stop me!!”
It only happened a mere one and a half decades ago: surely he wouldn’t remember me? I learned a lot on that day when the sun decided to frown all day long even as we stood outside that block of flats. At least I can now truly say that I was sorry for what I did. I believe that God will answer my prayers and forgive me for all I have done.
Finally here at Sydney Harbour walking through the cold shade, of the Botanical Gardens, hugging me from the extreme heat of Sydney's Summer. Today one of the Australian Naval Vessels is arriving next to my trustworthy shack that I call home, at the Garden Islands.
“I’m poor, food for the poor.” I ask the sailors disembarking as if the Majesty herself was watching.
“Money for the poor?... anyone, anyone?”
Someone flicked a gold coin in my