Beach Bums

Not all bums are created equal.

For every ten hyper-agressive zombies begging for spare change, there is usually one free-spirited, feel good, seemingly-wise street dweller. His never ending smile is infectious. He’ll make the nine to fiver question his commitment. A life without worries, without routine —the ticking clock is his alone.

He works his smile up and down the boardwalk, making a quarter here, a dollar there. This is his world. He owns the sunshine and the palm trees, the burning edge of the Pacific.

But when the sun drops, so does the high. The next 12 hours are going to be cold. The rats come out at night. Only the strong survive for another day in the sun.