THE FUTURE OF MONEY Bernard A. Lietaer - library.uniteddiversity ...

sadness and the kindness, because he was virtually invisible. Had
someone seen him he might have lived just a lithe longer. But for
most, ignorance is easier than compassion.
And when all the rich people went to sleep, Bean gathered some of
the gutter punks to take Red's body to the dump and they burned
him. His ashes are on your $4,000 lawn, and his body is making your
flowers grow.
One of Red's favourite songs was by the Rancids; it goes:
ADDISON
'Red and white stripes fiyin'
White for skin and Red for dyin'
Why can't I walk on through
and not feel like I am in hell.'
I looked at Addison, and it was death staring back at me. He stood
before me, not as the beloved boy that I knew, but as the dark angel
whose image haunts me in my dreams, the angel of death. His
molasses skin was yellowing; his black eyes looked as if they had
been sanded, left with a dull finish. His paper-thin body shook
compulsively as he stepped down from the green bus toward me. He
was a torrent of anxiety and sadness. He looked at his old shoes as if
he were observing someone else's feet. He couldn't feel his feet, but
he knew they were there because he could see them.
His skin was peeling and his hands faelt like splintered cardboard
as I helped him off the final grey step of the bus. Then the bus was all
of a sudden gone, and we were alone, and for the first time in my life
I was scared. I was scared to look at him, and a hurt to hold his
hands, which were dry and fan like shards of glass. His fingernails
were falling off. He pulled a comb out of his pocket and combed