for those who wonder who I am
Looks like an ideal spot for a nap by the lake, doesn’t it? Not! This is a hammock hung by a Canadian Aboriginal homeless man on a steep slope of trees and bushes along the edge of the highway leading to the Allan Road Ramp where he panhandles on a daily basis.
“I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam,” Popeye the Sailor Man.
“Do you want a job?” the middle aged man inquires while idling his pickup with a younger co-worker smiling and digging his pocket for change in the passenger seat. Not the first time someone has asked her this, before departing on the green light without a solid lead.
“What kind of job?” the panhandler replies, curious as always. Continue reading “Quotes from Streets: It is what it is!”
Apparently the dramatic take-down in our neighborhood began over an hour ago, but we only got a view of the tail end (no witnesses here). Snapped a quick picture before retreating into the safety of home. It’s pretty much over now and the canine cops are back in the back of the handler’s car. Continue reading “A Dog’s Eye View – Dog’s on Duty”
Defeated, she sits on the edge of the bed belonging to a fragile senior resident whom she has known for years, has harbored her before, and shares some of the same habits. After a three week crack binge, which I doubt is yet over, she is famished and for the privilege of making and eating four grill cheese sandwiches in a flash is massaging that woman’s sore feet and shoulders. Anything to ensure she doesn’t get thrown out again. Far from her home across the city, without money and in no condition to bargain, she knows no-one else will open the door for her tonight. Running amok for days, several violent outbursts against people and property have angered and alienated her peers, so she is lucky to have this temporary sanctuary. Continue reading “Quotes from The Crack Game* – “It was so hard.””
Speaking of Polar Bears! Heard the bad news on 680 News Toronto just now. The bears who live in the Arctic are losing weight, cause of climate change which is making it harder for them to navigate warming waters, shifting landscape and thinning ice; tragically shrinking their hunting grounds. Mom’s a bit of a news fiend although lately with serial killers at hand and children chained in filthy conditions by their own parents and so much more horrific tails , she’s questioning her need to know.
As the traffic idles on the red a man takes the time to place a small paper cup on his dashboard, opens a thermos and pours. Streetgirl watches, thinking it might be espresso. Hasn’t had one of those since Salvatore passed; along-side a shot of ouzo, burning coffee beans on top, accompanied by dessert after dinner in a restaurant of her choice. That was their thing. May he rest in peace. The driver doesn’t seem to notice her standing at the curb. He slides something onto the lid of the cup, a chocolate perhaps. Then, to her surprise, opens his window and offers the drink to her.
“It’s a date!” he declares. Continue reading “It’s a date!”
Hello again. I know I said I would continue our chat about what’s in a name, but that was a month ago and I’m keen to digress. It’s January 2018! Past my prime, “one day closer to death” as per Pink Floyd, still running fast when roused. Yesterday the Doomsday Clock was moved 30 seconds ahead, to stand teetering on the edge of the end. A nuclear apocalypse. Sounds a bit extreme, but current political climate renders it conceivable.
