The Hyperion Chronicles
#330 Homeless for the Holidays
His eyes glaze over and he looks up at…what…I don’t know. His expression is…not lost…but traveling. In his mind I could see him taking a journey back…to places I’d never been, things I’d never seen. He stays there for some time, and then he opens his mouth and begins to speak.
-December 25, 2002
I first decided to do this about a week before. I was home alone for the month, and much like now having a lot of trouble walking. Getting to my immediate family was a luxury that wasn’t going to happen, and while there was extended family not far way who would have been more than happy to come get me, instead I isolated myself. Go figure.
I knew a little about the periphery of my neighborhood homeless population. I’d take long walks—when I could walk properly—late into the night and often run into several old mainstays. I was extremely curious about these guys and decided to spend Christmas with a few of them, hoping to see the world through their eyes and what made them tick.
The day started off a little bit after 7. I had a small tape recorder with me, and my pen and notebook. I left my wallet at home. It’s not like that would have made a difference money-wise, but I didn’t want any identity today.