I hit Division and it begins....
One stop light after another.
One homeless person after another.
I am aware and in the presence of their existence.
Division?
Yes, I think so.
I sit in my car and ponder the division between the person holding a card board sign gripped between two dirty, cold hands and myself.
I try not to make eye contact. If I do, I don't know if I should smile, because if I smile they might think I am going to give...Should I give? But maybe a smile would mean something to them. I wonder how they ended up the way they did. Drugs? Abuse? Lies? Abandonment?
Homelessness, is its own community. They all carry the same look-rugged, tired, cold, sad, alone, hungry, dirty, needy...
Where did it begin? Who was the first person to decide to steal a shopping cart to carry their belongings? Who was the first person to decide to hold up a sign? Why is it always cardboard?
You know what big questions I always have?
"What alley way, business, or dumpster did they find their cardboard? And more importantly, where did they get the marker? Did they buy it? Did they walk into a business and ask for a marker, and proceed to set their cardboard down on that table or desk, to write their humility on that sign?"
How does one begin to find a phrase that is so vulnerable, humiliating, worth money, and just a few words that fits on a space small enough to hold for hours on end?
For some reason...I am so stuck on that sign....
It's art.
