The other day I was going to the bank to get some cash. I found myself walking between the Fidelity Investments building, an institution of the super-rich, and a homeless man, dirty and shabbily-dressed, sitting on a bench and arguing with imaginary voices.

I had to look at him twice. I almost stopped and talked to him. I suppose if I were the sort to begin conversations with strangers, I would have. I always wonder if they'd snap out of it and be lucid, or if they'd think I was another figment of their imagination. I also wonder if I'll end up like them.