Everyone usually ignored him, but today Gaga was the focus of an assault. At first he struggled. What could his attackers possibly want from him? He ripped away from reaching hands, twisting for space. The boys surrounded him and urged him to relax.
They shook his hand warmly and tried to communicate information that Gaga did not entirely understand. Despite the confusion, he started enjoying the unusual attention. Children often ran from him in fear. Most people pretended he wasn't there. His family had disowned him decades ago, his mental problems too much for them to handle. They couldn't afford to send him to the mental hospital in Berrechid, and even if they could, he would not have found compassion from the workers there.
Today, Gaga had encountered compassion. Led by the owner of the juice shop, the group of boys were determined to help him out. Once they had gained his trust, they began to strip off his clothes. Stilted legs supported a surprisingly chiseled torso. The helpers lifted their collars over there noses as a wretched stench escaped from beneath the clothes. They got a bucket of warm water and began to work.
Gaga began to smile. It was like having friends. He was not clogged in misery. He was not walking down the street muttering and shaking his head, stopping momentarily to punch the air and cry "G-gaaa, g-gaaa." For the moment he was feeling joy, forcing a strange smile. It was an incredible relief from the daily suffering.
Pedestrians began to take interest in the public bathing. A naked homeless man on the corner of the street was not especially usual and couldn't be ignored. Some girls walked passed and turned their heads away disgusted by the scene. Some children laughed at the sight of nudity. Several neighbors gathered into a small crowd, watching respectively, admiring the generosity of the boys.
Two volunteers entered the scene stretching a blanket across the sidewalk stage to censor what some may find offensive. The others continued to scrub and splash water.
Soon, Gaga's stench had been defeated. His hair had been shampooed. His skin had been purified. The group decided a nail clipping couldn't be ignored. The oldest volunteer hacked away at brown growths at the ends of his fingers and toes. One nail detached completely from the toe as he tried to grip it. The others maintained enthusiasm even though there wasn't much left to do. They thought about giving Gaga a haircut, but determined it wasn't necessary. The owner of the juice shop produced a box of second hand clothes, and the boys sorted through the pants and shirts for Gaga's new outfit. His old clothes were a toxic hazard. One boy thought it would be a good idea to gift Gaga a cigarette.
Before returning to his misery, they did a series of cell phone pictures to remember the event. The photos would have tricked anyone to believe that Gaga was a happy homeless man. He returned to wandering the streets, half a piece of bread in his hand, a cigarette tucked into his mouth, looking fresh and halfway handsome. The volunteers patted themselves on the back.
They shook his hand warmly and tried to communicate information that Gaga did not entirely understand. Despite the confusion, he started enjoying the unusual attention. Children often ran from him in fear. Most people pretended he wasn't there. His family had disowned him decades ago, his mental problems too much for them to handle. They couldn't afford to send him to the mental hospital in Berrechid, and even if they could, he would not have found compassion from the workers there.
Today, Gaga had encountered compassion. Led by the owner of the juice shop, the group of boys were determined to help him out. Once they had gained his trust, they began to strip off his clothes. Stilted legs supported a surprisingly chiseled torso. The helpers lifted their collars over there noses as a wretched stench escaped from beneath the clothes. They got a bucket of warm water and began to work.
Gaga began to smile. It was like having friends. He was not clogged in misery. He was not walking down the street muttering and shaking his head, stopping momentarily to punch the air and cry "G-gaaa, g-gaaa." For the moment he was feeling joy, forcing a strange smile. It was an incredible relief from the daily suffering.
Pedestrians began to take interest in the public bathing. A naked homeless man on the corner of the street was not especially usual and couldn't be ignored. Some girls walked passed and turned their heads away disgusted by the scene. Some children laughed at the sight of nudity. Several neighbors gathered into a small crowd, watching respectively, admiring the generosity of the boys.
Two volunteers entered the scene stretching a blanket across the sidewalk stage to censor what some may find offensive. The others continued to scrub and splash water.
Soon, Gaga's stench had been defeated. His hair had been shampooed. His skin had been purified. The group decided a nail clipping couldn't be ignored. The oldest volunteer hacked away at brown growths at the ends of his fingers and toes. One nail detached completely from the toe as he tried to grip it. The others maintained enthusiasm even though there wasn't much left to do. They thought about giving Gaga a haircut, but determined it wasn't necessary. The owner of the juice shop produced a box of second hand clothes, and the boys sorted through the pants and shirts for Gaga's new outfit. His old clothes were a toxic hazard. One boy thought it would be a good idea to gift Gaga a cigarette.
Before returning to his misery, they did a series of cell phone pictures to remember the event. The photos would have tricked anyone to believe that Gaga was a happy homeless man. He returned to wandering the streets, half a piece of bread in his hand, a cigarette tucked into his mouth, looking fresh and halfway handsome. The volunteers patted themselves on the back.
