I was out for a walk yesterday when I crossed paths with a Buddhist monk.
While we passed one another he held out a card, smiled, and softly said “peace to you.”
I took it, thanked him and continued walking when I heard him call back.
I turned to see him opening a book and waving a pen towards me. The top of the book explained that he was Buddhist and relied on the generosity of others.
I awkwardly shrugged. “Peace” he clarified, pointing at the card, “$40.”
Taken aback, I said “I’m sorry, I don’t–”
“$20?” He negotiated.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money.”
“Okay, okay. $10.”
I pulled my wallet from my pocket, opened it, showing all of the pockets were empty.
“No money?” He asked.
“No money.” I answered. “Or, well…” I smiled uncomfortably and fished a tonnie out of my pocket, offering it.
He took the coin without a word and walked away.
Peace is out of my price range, it seems.
Sloane Square | Being Alive 