I took a morning run, and my regular route brought me into close proximity to a homeless encampment of five RVs, three vehicles, a dog igloo doghouse, and a tent.
Something is always new here. Today’s latest addition was a full dining set, of what looked like fine oak or mahogany, with an umbrella rigged up to provide shade. Residents of the leafy neighborhood just put their furniture on the street or sidewalk, set up the FREE sign, and then, the bulk ends up at the encampment a few days or minutes later, where it is used, but mostly unused, and piles up higher and higher, until the city decides to haul it away, which might be a decade from now.
One of the RVs had some new writing on its exterior. “Fuck Off Nosey. I’m leaving soon, but not soon enough.”
Off to the side of this scrawl was more writing: “Leave a message.”
Contradiction? Perhaps. Haven’t I just been invited to be nosey? It was a sliver of an opening and that’s all I’ve wanted into this story.
Who knows what was going on with the writing on the rig? If I had a marker I would have left the occupant a message. What might I have written? Simple: “How did you end up here?”
That’s what I want to know.
Or…”where are you going next?”
Aren’t these the only two questions for all of us?