Walking across town this morning meant moving through at least four levels of poverty: the people so lost to addiction and trauma that they're just out surviving; the people lucid enough to beg; the people with just enough to operate a little food/drink stand, hustling in the streets; and the people with slightly more stability, working in shabby tiendas with lean, lean margins.

And... I was listening to a podcast on white-collar grifters while walking.

Our world is broken in so, so many ways.