Sir, it's a Sunday.

I saw a homeless man sleeping on the cold concrete floor last week. In hoodie and jeans, he was raw dogging the Canadian winter. The man was laying by the front entrance of the Toronto Stock Exchange. "Sir, it's a Sunday. The market is closed." I thought to myself as I stepped over him. "You'd probably find better luck at Kensington Market." Then again, the competition there would be oversaturated. Even if the guy slept by the stock exchange until Monday morning, he wouldn't get a dime. Toronto is homeless too.