The smell of freshly ground and roasted beans and baked bread was what this neck of the Streets was known for. You couldn't not appreciate the olfactory sense when it tickled the tip of the nose. If you stopped to smell the coffee, that is. As for some, they seemed like the world before them was just beyond their reach.

Rushing. Head down, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Eyes focused solely on the space ahead, yet the mind miles away. In thoughts of who knows what, but the simple delights escaped their grasp. They weren't present enough to experience what had been gifted to them. Off in a hurry to a place they probably would never be able to fully appreciate. And in that way, they would never truly arrive, as their mind would be off somewhere else again.

The priest had watched this play go on for a good hour or so. Sitting and taking in the morning routine of the masses as they made their way to work, from a neat little spot he'd set up for himself. Nothing more than a milk crate was needed. Just something to hold the various bits of clothing he'd brought with him to give out to some homeless, and now upturned, used to park his rear.

He was dressed as you might imagine for a priest. All black, with the unmistakable white collar. The attire of those who wanted to be recognized as men of the cloth. As the middle men for God and his finest creation. Although, this day he was trying something new. Something he'd always liked the look of, yet never dared to wear back in Italy. A black hat.

Being fresh off the boat in America, he felt a sense of change. A sense of freedom. Which accompanied him since he hadn't officially been assigned a parish here, as his trip wasn't exactly church approved. And as he finally had his fill of people watching, he set to task. He had a bigger agenda to address, and fully embracing this new found freedom he stood up straight and spoke aloud.

Francesco began ad libbing some thoughts he'd wanted to share. Being without a 'proper' place to share them, he decided this would be as good a place as any, maybe even the best. The common Streets.

"You want wine, don't you? And beer! And whisky! And opium! And to have your desires seen to by a palm you can slap some coins into!" His words accompanied an arm that was directly pointing at people who passed by in front of a busy café.

"You want to simply taste life. But instead you drown yourselves in it! One glass isn't enough. You need more, and more, and more until you can't remember all the bullshit of this existence you've been sold into believing!"

"Don't you, sir!" The priest's outstretched right arm with pointing forefinger fixed on a man carrying a briefcase. He seemed startled, as one would with a hand unexpectantly forced in their face.

"And you mam!" His attention moved on to a twenty something well presented women, who also looked uncomfortable with the extra attention she was recieving.

"And you!" He smirked as the now departed man and women were replaced with two young street urchins, who had rushed over from a spot where they were begging when they heard the clergyman carrying on. He kept his loud tone, yet focused his attention mainly on the spirited young souls a moment. One pulled the milk crate into a position next to their entertainer, which they then shared as he continued his rant.

"You want to sip from the cup of pleasure, but end up wanting to drown out all the sorrow. To swim in the stream of life, but you fall prey to the demons that swim with it."

"Well you should! Drink from the devil's chalice and get drunk on life. Because the church has lied to you all.." He emphazied his point further, now with a small but growing crowd before him.

"That's right! It doesn't give a damn about you! Why would it? You sin because you are human, and yet if you can't pay to have those mishaps washed away then you are damned forever!"

"Coin buys you a ticket to the gates of heaven. Not true repentance, but money buys your soul! And if you don't cough it up, you're doomed to sink into the depths of hell for all eternity!"

He kept on, in full gusto for what he was preaching. He felt he owed the people the truth, as he'd witnessed more than his share of bullshit being shoveled down their throats. And much of it came from what he viewed as the biggest gang of them all, the church.

"And why should you even need to repent?! Who says you are damned because you live a life of the senses, a life of enjoyment. Who makes the rules of who is or who isn't in God's graces? The Church? I call THAT blasphemy!"

"Why listen to someone who neglects to truly understand you? Who fools you into believing only they can instruct you in what God wants you to do, or not to do. When they would hardly know you as their equal, as their own brothers and sisters. Why do they deserve your loyalty, when they don't recognize you for who you truly are?"

"I say be yourselves. I say find whatever you need within, and live your lives as they were meant to be lived. By enjoying the bounty before you, in all its facets. Because if it wasn't meant to be, then it wouldn't be. I say God is in you regardless, and you don't need to pay your way into his grace. Wake up and smell the coffee instead. It wont cost you a damned thing."

The priest's thoughts trickled to an end, and with it his rant. He said what he set out to say and let it sit with his audience as he turned and gave some coins from his trouser pocket to the two youths, who happily accepted them before legging it down the sidewalk.

It was time for a change. For a way to help others without the need to control them. To bring some sort of relief, rather than more rules to abide by. For true freedom. And he may just have found the solution. In a place beyond the bullshit. In a city they called Sin. At a local coffee joint some were calling... Gangster's Paradise.