There’s a homeless artist who sits on the street nearby my work most  days; he paints and plays guitar and holds cardboard signs with  a-typical messages like “fuck, it’s just a buck" and "cops stole my art supplies, need money to buy more.” One day two traveling boys and their dog were passing through, and they joined him to also beg for money; their punny sign read “hungry hungry hobos.”
I gave the artist a handful of brushes and paints — extras that I had at  home since I haven’t been painting for a while, ten brushes and twelve  tubes of acrylic. He thanked me because he was running low and needed  more. We chatted a bit, then smiled and parted ways. He had very sincere & friendly eyes. 
               
Day 15/30

There’s a homeless artist who sits on the street nearby my work most days; he paints and plays guitar and holds cardboard signs with a-typical messages like “fuck, it’s just a buck" and "cops stole my art supplies, need money to buy more.” One day two traveling boys and their dog were passing through, and they joined him to also beg for money; their punny sign read “hungry hungry hobos.”

I gave the artist a handful of brushes and paints — extras that I had at home since I haven’t been painting for a while, ten brushes and twelve tubes of acrylic. He thanked me because he was running low and needed more. We chatted a bit, then smiled and parted ways. He had very sincere & friendly eyes. 

              

Day 15/30