feed me something to eat
My Travel Story
i dont havemoney to study and next travel
i didnot eat four days
The evening sky turned shades of orange and purple as I sat quietly on the side of a busy road, watching people pass by in a hurry—some with bags of groceries, some laughing with friends, others lost in their phones. My stomach ached, empty for the second day in a row. The city was alive, full of noise and light, but I felt invisible.
I had never imagined I’d be in this position—asking strangers, kind souls, for a simple meal. But hunger doesn’t care about pride. It doesn’t wait. It creeps into your bones, your thoughts, your spirit.
I made a small cardboard sign from a discarded box. With a marker I found in a trash bin, I wrote in big, shaky letters: "Hungry. No family. No job. If you can, please donate food. God bless you."
I sat quietly, holding the sign. My eyes scanned every passerby, not with judgment, but with hope. Some glanced at me and quickly looked away. Others simply didn’t see me at all. Minutes felt like hours.
Then, a man in a blue shirt stopped. He looked at the sign, then at me.
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