it finally happened today. the normally out-of-control homeless man outside of 7-11 was found passed out on the sidewalk. a fire truck came and took him away.
earlier today i went running and while walking home on yonge street, i passed a woman who was wearing only a t-shirt and turquoise panties and had paint on her feet and legs, and was muttering to herself. it always feels precarious walking on the same side of the road as these people, but the cruelest thing is that no one knew how she got here. so no one can help her unless they want to cause a scene.
yesterday during my shift at the st. lawrence shoppers a bruised and disheveled woman came for her daily witnessed dose of (a very high dosage of) narcotic drugs, but there was a shortage of one of the drugs. obviously, she did not care to understand or even listen, and instead spent 20 minutes standing at the counter yelling about how she has to wait and how her ice cream that she just bought was melting. it was frustrating, but i can't imaging what her life must be like. there might be signs of domestic or sexual abuse, and human trafficking (which is on everyone's minds right now because of the campaigns going on), but we have to see past that in order to do our job. you try to express yourself, but no one is hearing you.
is it worse to live amongst perfectly dressed and clean people in a sterile city or living among these cases of humanity at its lowest and feral state?
to me, muting life feels wrong and as a result i feel as if i've lost the creative, imaginative life force. i can't see anything past the surface right now.