Like the homeless man who I see every day, rain or shine, sleeping outside the Harry Winston diamond shop, I remember there were two homeless men who were always drunk sitting outside the Anthropology and Archaeology Department at the University of Cambridge. The two gypsies never asked for anything, instead always insisting on giving different students gifts. My friend received a toy airplane. I received an beautiful postcard painted over with watercolor and my palms read. Life has a way of juxtaposing its own symbolic reminders.
The Diamond Outside Harry Winston’s