Today my father stopped by, his hands were black.
He was working nearby. I lent him some money and if i had more, i would give him that as well.
What is it that keeps him going?

I hadn't seen him for two weeks and i was learning about him from my mother.

"How are you? Are you ok? How's work?"
"Fine, tell me about you."
"Me… I am being tormented like Christ."

He was so tired, he almost lied down on the couch to sleep.
I didn't let him, i made him coffee so that he talk me about.

What is it that keeps him going?
I will never find out.