8:01

A homeless man’s only possession is a little black book.

It’s filled with his thoughts and ideas he doesn’t want to forget, along with scribbled doodles filling every page. 

He uses so many different materials to write everything down, each page is lined with different colors and textures, lipstick, dirt, blood, ink, pink, red, brown, black.

Sometimes he would open the spline of the book and flip through the pages so fast it resembled a faded rainbow desperately clinging to the warmth of the sun. 

Above all, the homeless man uses the pages to create signs to beg for money. 

The signs he makes aren’t written poetically, but almost affirmations of love and gratitude. ‘how are you today?’ or “you’re amazing’

The man isn’t an addict, his clothes aren’t tattered or stained, he looks newly homeless. Billboards tower above him advertising a new condominium complex 'renting soon.'

However, the homeless man doesn’t look this far up, his eyes just focus on the pages of his little black book.

After drawing a sign, the homeless man rips out the page from the book and uses it throughout the day. If the page survives the day, he places it back into his little black book for another day, however if the page deteriorates, it’s one less page he has in his little black book. 

One night, the homeless man opens his little black book and realizes, he only has one page left. Filled with an aimless desperation, he searches for the right words. His hands tremble as he writes the words of his final sign. It’s like he is writing the last page in the book of his life. 


The homeless man holds his the sign while traffic passes by, it’s unclear what he has written, but he’s folded the little black book in half to support the last frail page.

The sun has almost set and the headlights are blinding making it too dark for anyone to read his sign, so he abandons his empty little black book…

The homeless man staggers up the road to a large bridge that overlooks the city.


The homeless man’s eyes burn in the gusts of wind caused by passing traffc. His gaze slowly wanders over the edge of the bridge, looking down below at the rushing freeway.

He grasps the railing of the bridge and leans against it to look further over the edge. Just as he is lifting one foot into the air, he hears a voice call out.

He almost falls over the bridge, but finally slams his heals down and stands straight up like a single hair at the end of goosebumps.

“HEY!”

The homeless man turns around and sees a car pulled off to the side of the road with the window rolled down. Oncoming traffic swerves and honks at the car, but it doesn’t budge.

A woman is yelling something to the homeless man.

He eventually comes down from the ledge and approaches the car.

The woman’s extends her hand holding the homeless man’s tattered little black book.

“Think you dropped this…”

The woman has also slipped a five dollar bill in the empty binding.

“You hungry? I also have some leftovers if you want.”

The homeless man never speaks, he is just overwhelmed by the woman’s generosity.

Later that night, the homeless man is smiling. He sits on a park bench watching a varsity football team practice on the field.

The homeless man has it all: entertainment, his stomach full of Thai cuisine, and with five entire dollars to his name, he could buy anything in the world.

The homeless man combs through his grimy hair looking in the reflection of a trucks side mirror.

The homeless man, peruses the colorful shelves of a convenience store.

He gathers various sweet treats and snacks that he piles onto the counter, until he sees an illuminated sign with buzzing-red digital numbers that read 122 MILLION JACKPOT.

His eyes widen as he begins to move the sweets aside and see all the lotto tickets with different prizes, until his eyes land on one that reads: EASY WIN SCRATCH 20,000 for 5$.

The homeless man points to the ticket.

The clerk snaps: “So, you don’t want the candy, just the ticket?”

The homeless man nods his head and produces the wrinkled five dollar bill.

His eyes dart between the money in his hand and the shinny ticket in the clerk’s hand.

Just as they trade currencies- something catches the homeless man’s eye even more than the shinny ticket.

Next to the register, there is a display of small Molskine notebooks: $4.99 each. The time on the clock reads: 8:00pm.

Exiting the convenience store, the homeless man unwraps his new little black book! He fans the pages over and over, unable to contain his excitment. Even though he still has nothing to write with, his mind runs wild with the endless possibilities of each page.