I’ll never forget the time I had lunch in a cafeteria at the American Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., and there was what appeared to be this boney little homeless guy at one table sucking down one mustard packet right after the other. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him.
I’ll never forget the time I had lunch in a cafeteria at the American Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., and there was what appeared to be this boney little homeless guy at one table sucking down one mustard packet right after the other. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him.