Why I feel that I needed to write about the late Piet Sluis, who died last weekend was because, I had wrote an entry few months back, accusing him of being a senile drunkard. I have always wondered why though, despite his shabby unkempt clothes, he was always welcomed by people around Blackrock village. Honestly, I couldn't stand his pungent smell, and was a little afraid by his ways, always sitting on the bench, feeding the pigeons, talking to himself.

Little did I know that this man who is Dutch by birth, is an artist.A painter.

Everyday I would pass by this man on the way to work and back, and if he isn't on his trademark bench, he would be sitting in Insomnia coffee joint, chatting away with some of the old folks. I always respected the people who were always around him, giving him coffee, sandwiches, listening to him. He was, afterall a good man. Rumours has it, that a few year ago, his wife died, and he began to binge drink, to forget his sorrows. He then sold his work of art, to support his drinking habits. It's such a waste to know that this man, had given up on life, when he had so much more to live for. (if what they tell me is true).

So, now as I walk pass by Bank of Ireland, and the bench sits still and empty, and the pigeons are left hungry, I feel a pang of guilt, for thinking negatively of this man. ( Not my fault though, there are many bums around Jervis, who are dangerous and we have been warned to stay away!). There are a bunch of flowers and little notes left by passerbys and people who genuinely knew him.