This morning I had the misfortune of standing next to a woman who was taking loudly and incoherently to herself , a bag of rubbish in her hand. She looked to be in her 50's with short black hair and was very thin. When the lights changed and we crossed the road I made sure I slowed down to give her an opportunity to pass me but she cut me off, and for some reason didnt like it and hit me with her bag. Then she turned around,yelled at me and hit me with it again.
I have never seen her before and I don't know if I will see her again. At night they disappear, and in the day they roam. The mornings they sleep or wander around amorously, with take away coffee cups and chocolate chip muffins. 'Dreadlocks' feet are black, he sleeps on the steps of the church because its warm and never begs for money. I have seen him in the mornings drinking a cup of coffee at the cafe up the road like he was getting ready for a business meeting then spends his day laughing at things that are not there and walking up and down George Street.
Today I saw another young guy on the street with his face covered by his hoody. What I could see told me he was not homeless as much as he was a junkie - the sad thing is now I can pick the difference.