One of the people I used to meet on the street regularly is an artist. I have a print of a daffodil painting he made. One day we were chatting and he told me a bit of his story – his doctor had put him on a new medication and the paper work to pay for it didn’t go through very quickly. He had to choose between buying his medication or paying his rent, so he gave notice on his apartment. He told me that he was going to go out west to live with family (and for the warmer climate on the coast). I asked him if I could give him a hug and he said “Yes, no one ever touches me, I haven’t been hugged in two months”.
Can you imagine?