Darsey, a staff member of Portland Rescue Mission, went to see a play recently. Outside the theatre, she met a homeless man…
The guy beside me wears a dingy red scarf and some finger-less mittens, and he fidgets with his cigarette. And he’s muttering. He’s muttering about how all the people walking past aren’t paying any attention to him. He’s not talking to me, per say, he’s just complaining. Couples are walking past, wearing tweed jackets and heels and boots, their eyes meeting mine at eye-level, trying not to look down at this mumbling man in their peripheral.
I want to cross into his world, though. Break through his plane of anonymity. I lean over and look him in the eye, sideways. “How ya doin?” I ask.