I see you. I find you in every public space in this town, especially during the evenings when so few remain open. I found you often when I lived in my van. I would spend my lounge time in the library and in every coffeehouse and teahouse- just like you.
We have this much in common but we are not the same. I gave up my home- by choice- to live in that van. I also ended my time in the van by choice.
Did you choose this life? I can’t tell, and I am afraid to ask, as this is the most offensive question I can think of.
Though you seem in good physical health, I do not know your story: are you homeless by choice? Did you choose this life? I can’t tell, and I am afraid to ask, as this is the most offensive question I can think of.
Even though I am barely getting by, living in a dingy apartment with too many dogs, beside you my privilege shines with uncomfortable brightness. It occurs to me now that my privilege is more obvious to you than it is to me.
I have no solution to this, no action. But I see you.