A lonely man wanders street to street, in search of a stabilized place to call home. His sense of belonging is lost and no family is there to talk to or to reach out for. He is no man of strength, hope or the will to believe in such a thing called freedom. He sees many like him, alone in their sense of identity but close to hand with many like him. An outcast. Each day, each cold night, disturbs the minds of hope in dreaming of a better life, a better outcome for their lives. The man comes through many obstacles in which everyday simple tasks become a journey to obtain in their sense of living. Things come to a head as he prepares to witness the dramatic tales of others like him, the way in which living is a burden, unable to conform into society. As a terrible loneliness sets in, the mindset of the man is forever altered. The night still drags on, the wind continues to blow… as there is no escape.

9:00 pm

A drizzly Monday filled with rain and cold storms. Streets overcrowded with calamity and pedestrians walking to and fro with there schedules, some occupied on the phone. The setting is loud, dark night and the silent noise of the cold breeze sweeping through the trees and bushes. Noise pollution enters as the pedestrians and cars go by. The man is sitting alone in the darkness, searching around him as if he was unaware of his surroundings. He coils under all his blankets. He is clearly upset, and thinks to himself.

(To himself)

“Every night it gets colder and colder. How long must I live this life…?”

9:15 pm

His eyes stare at the night sky; eyes filled with tears that flow gently down his pale skin. He grinds his teeth and sighs in thin air. His hands begin to fiddle with his earnings, (what little earnings he has). He curdles up into his blankets to find some sense of comfort as he shivers through the cold breeze.

(To himself)

“People… they walk by and by.”

“Please Lord help me… I need comfort, as I cannot find it. The breeze gets colder and colder every night. The streets are filled with homeless people.”

“Help them… help me… Please.”

10:01 pm

The man… he preferred to give no identity of his life… as you see he has lost himself. Old he was, late 70's to be exact. His hair ruffled which ever the wind flowed. Grey hairs that surrounded his hairline and his mustache and beard intertwined with each other. His hair longer than his beard, as if he hadn’t had the proper utensils for a clear shave. Eyes wide and immense with sorrow. Blue they were, filled with darkness, but one spec of light, as if the blueness overshined them. Hands were dry and aggressive, as the man sat on his corner spot, hands together as if they were inseparable. Grasping his hands… removing any anticipation.

11:30 pm

The skies were greyer and the wind blew slightly towards the northern sky. Streets were still filled with his people, but society has quieted. There is no noise of one’s conversation and clickity-clack of heels. All there was left was the wind.

12:00 pm

The man preferred black. Anything that was black he would gather. Black beanies, clothing, dark blankets…anything that will camouflage himself to feel safe and protected from what is out there. Those who don’t own anything dark, unfortunately suffer loss. The man knew this… and frequently changed locations each time.

The man had been hurt in the past; scars still shatter him physically and mentally. A group of adults had kicked him, stolen his earnings, everything that was hope for the man was stolen and never came back. They would not leave the man alone until he was unconscious, in a paralytic state and bled to the ground. The man survived the horror through the rain and cloth he had left over to treat his wounds, for the man could not travel to the hospital or gain attention to those who walk past him. All he would receive were coins, but others stole them to benefit themselves from the misfortune.

2:00 pm

The wind blew stronger as time went past. The man coughed in the breeze and sighed deeply. He looks around him to find the homeless people shiver in the cold. Recently homeless women struggles to feed her young daughter… she curdles up in blankets to keep her and her daughter warm. The man’s eyes widen to the reality of the little girl’s future.

(To himself)

“ She’s strong… stronger than her mother. Her mothers cries herself to sleep every night. We all need someone with the mindset of the little girl. She has faith … hope… bravery… She will make it out alive, she will be on her feet… standing proud, for her mother.”