I talked to this man at the bus stop today. He was depressed, sleep depraved, quietly spoken, but speaking every single thought he had. About forty percent was audible, but what was was eloquent and inquisitive of life. For some reason, I listened intently. I saw in his eyes a desperation to be heard. He had all his possessions on his person, I could see that. After speaking about smoking, he threw away his tobacco. I barely spoke, just nodded and rebound his points. When he said all he needed to, he decided the bus wouldn't be going in the right direction, got up and thanked me for listening. He stopped several times while he walked away. At vulnerable and challenging times, being listened to by someone unknown can refresh a perspective. I hope he is well.