It was 9 a.m.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand next to me, I struggled to turn it off and swung my tired body out of bed. I grabbed a pair of slumped pants on the floor and threw them on. The sun was shining and the gulls were soaring overhead the apartment. I picked up my camera and headed outside to hit the street. I walked down a couple blocks finding myself right next to the beach. It was early and all of the local shops had just started to open. Joggers ran past, surfers had their gear ready to catch a wave, and a handful of homeless travelers wandered their way up and down the beach.
One particular homeless man caught my eye. He was swarmed by pigeons and seagulls as he sat in his wheelchair tossing what little crumbs he had left in a chip bag. He was missing his left leg and had practically no possessions, just a backpack and his wheelchair. The moment seemed so odd to me, how someone with so little could share anything with anyone, let alone a group of birds that could care less about giving him anything in return.