It was a hot and steamy evening, and I was dripping. I was wondering if I would have the time to get back to the hotel, and shower before I left for the airport.
It was a dilemna that I faced: do I travel while being sticky and sweaty, or do I have a shower and put my sticky, sweaty clothes into my suitcase. Neither was the most attractive option. Either I would stink, or my clothes in the suitcase would stink.
As I pondered these weighty issues, I came upon this gentleman sleeping on the street, while someone else was pulling out of the shopping arcade in their gleaming car. The bright lights in the McDonald's outlet beckoned, but I had lost my appetite.
My weighty issues suddenly seemed inconsequential, as I was reminded that other people have other, more weighty issues on their minds: where to sleep at night.
This, the question of God, is something that has always bothered me. If indeed God exists, and if indeed God is all knowing, all merciful, then why does such injustice exist? Why indeed, could the Marquis de Sade write a horrific book like "Juliette", or "The 120 Days of Sodom". I think that those books reflect his angst with the world.
I have seen many people who sleep on pavements. They leave villages, and come to cities, looking for a better life. God, it seems, looks down on them with compassion, and promises them a happier life in the Great Herafter.
Atheism, while it may be a much happier philosophy, still does not solve the problem of the man sleeping on the street in Bangkok.