A few months ago in the park I met a man in his 60s. With limping gait, he was supporting his weak, malnourished body on a dirty shopping cart filled with bags and bottles. I noticed his sad, kind eyes as he smiled at me. Then he started telling me his heart-wrenching story. “I am going to die soon. I have HIV. I have nothing left,” he said as tears were filling his eyes. “I was raped when I was in the army… and that was the end of my life,” he continued.