Homeless...

Meet Mark and John. I met them while walking through Ferdinand Plaza on a Saturday afternoon. I first noticed the luggage; it wasn’t your typical backpack for storing cool drinks and a snack. It held everything they owned. I asked them why they were there. They said they had no place else to go, they were homeless. They actually said the word homeless. But where do you sleep? I asked. “Wherever we can, until someone runs us off” they said in unison. John, the black man came here after Katrina. He needed assistance from the VA. He was wounded years ago while serving in the army. The funds were not coming quickly enough. No car, no home, no money, homeless. Mark had already drank his fifth of something by the time I met him. His story was similar. I asked if I could take their picture. Mark immediately became suspicious and accused me of being with the media. I told him I was not and he wanted to know why I had “such a big camera”. He won, and continued to hide his face while I snapped away. They were kind, I believed only a bit of what they said, seems I would have spun quite the tale myself if I were in that situation. I gave them what I had; only a few dollars each, it would buy lunch.