No Fun Vancouver
For some reason I posted this to my travel blog, I think because I have been sharing interesting bits about Vancouver that might interest travellers who come here. So I am re-blogging it to my art site. My apologies to the people who follow both, you haven’t drank too much (well, maybe), it’s just me having a brain fart. :()
5 days a week I passed the dark man who never failed to move me as few street people have, and he was most clearly a member of that tribe. He sat under the Burrard St. bridge on a chair in the community garden, leaning his elbows on his thighs looking down at the ground between his legs, dreaded hair hanging forward. Sadness/loneliness/despair, all emanated like mist, almost visible for its strength. His chair sat amidst a garden that spoke of hope and renewal as spring dawned. The juxtaposition making his presence all the more poignant. People walked, cycled, ran and drove by and I never saw anyone give him a glance.
Then one day he was gone, him and his chair vanished. I almost gasped for the lose. I looked around hoping that he, looking for some privacy, had moved deeper into the garden away from the street –…
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