"Look, there's a tramp sleeping on the pews, disgusting," exclaimed a middle-aged, clearly prosperous woman.
"At least he has a holy bed," I quipped. They were not amused.
I think they were missing the point of church. It is a sanctuary from a cruel world, nobody sets out in life to become homeless. My world might crumble one day and their cosy existence too.
I lit a candle and prayed his life would improve and stared at the tourists, with a certain disdain.