"odd interactions and encounters:" An Attempt at Raising Readership Numbers

Today I went with my mom to do our usual, monthly Meals-On-Wheels volunteer work of delivering meals to low-income people (mostly seniors) downtown. And once again I am reminded of what lurks deep down behind the façade of cities. Between numerous high-rises and the rising yuppydom of the Pearl District, there lies a few forgotten apartment buildings downtown. Nondescript as they are, they attract little attention. The aluminum boxes of noisy air conditioners stick out of their shuttered windows. Just look at them sometime, there is not a window without blinds drawn. Like the buildings, the inhabitants themselves are forgotten too. They live alone, mostly. Smoke and stench is stuck on every square inch of wall and fabric, and in every cubic inch of air; merely living means that you smoke. These people comprise sort of a secret society that is secluded from the mainstream of society. At the Banana Republic a few blocks away the chattering teens and purposeful businesspeople could never even guess at their existence. It seems perfectly reasonable to predict that if anyone of this hidden population died, they would only be discovered by the angry landlord wanting last months rent. Most people living like this are disabled, physically or mentally, and have been cast away from work because they are no longer useful. So they sit around watching TV, coveting the last bit of diabetes medication that they will no longer be able to acquire since the state health plan has to be cut. Some more fortunate members of society detest pitying them because their poverty is caused by an inability to work, but how can one work if one is not useful? It is an interesting question.
Anyway, I have been led to a conclusion by these experiences. If someone doesn't realize how lucky they are, they should go to a third-world country (fun) or spend some time in old, low-income housing in bad parts of town (easy).