I will be living on the streets of Decatur, homeless for the next 30 days, taking an in-depth look at homelessness in this area, and revisiting places nearly a decade after having done this before.
Day 1
I wonder how many people have been in this position...for real.
This was always the moment I had wondered about, right here, right now. This moment; the moment where one steps out the door for the last time, not knowing whether they will ever walk back into a door of their own. I always wonder about the soft click of the lock, and what that means.
I am coming back to it in 30 days. No amount of role playing (which is essentially what this project is; role playing) can prepare you for that feeling; not knowing. No matter what, I know that I have my keys right in my pocket.
Last night I closed the door and walked to the MARTA station with just about everything in a bag and the warm(-ish) air was inviting. There was a hint of spring.
How do you start being homeless? Why do you start being homeless? What leads to having to step out into the void?
These are all questions I would like to get a semblance of an answer to, but at that moment, it became about something simpler. Where was I going to sleep last night?
It was then that you start looking around at who might be able help. Let's forget for a moment that I have several friends who would let me crash on a couch or something. Riding the MARTA from Chamblee to Decatur, I saw several people sleeping.
I could sleep on the train?
No, because I do not like people being around while I sleep. I wonder if that is something that a lot of people experience. If they do, then how long does it take for that to go away or for them to solve it without a choice of where they are going to sleep?
I keep watching people watch me. My gear is still new enough to look like I am headed to the airport or going camping for the weekend. I splurged on a new sleeping bag. They don't know that. People think I am homeless, I am sure. Yes, it doesn't take much to convey that.
The Decatur Marta station is a sparse place this time of night. People are getting off work at various places and headed in different directions.
Choosing an area is a hard part. It has to be public-ish. I would notice a man walking through my neighborhood at this time of night with a bundle of stuff so it is best to steer clear of the neighborhoods.
At my height and weight, I am not too concerned about a lot but this first night, I think it best to avoid people for right now.
I found a nice little space off the main roads and dark and wooded. I rolled out my brand new sleeping bag. There are lights everywhere. Cars are driving by. There are voices. I start to drift off, with heavy eyelids then I hear the crack of a twig nearby...
Day 1
I wonder how many people have been in this position...for real.
This was always the moment I had wondered about, right here, right now. This moment; the moment where one steps out the door for the last time, not knowing whether they will ever walk back into a door of their own. I always wonder about the soft click of the lock, and what that means.
I am coming back to it in 30 days. No amount of role playing (which is essentially what this project is; role playing) can prepare you for that feeling; not knowing. No matter what, I know that I have my keys right in my pocket.
Last night I closed the door and walked to the MARTA station with just about everything in a bag and the warm(-ish) air was inviting. There was a hint of spring.
How do you start being homeless? Why do you start being homeless? What leads to having to step out into the void?
These are all questions I would like to get a semblance of an answer to, but at that moment, it became about something simpler. Where was I going to sleep last night?
It was then that you start looking around at who might be able help. Let's forget for a moment that I have several friends who would let me crash on a couch or something. Riding the MARTA from Chamblee to Decatur, I saw several people sleeping.
I could sleep on the train?
No, because I do not like people being around while I sleep. I wonder if that is something that a lot of people experience. If they do, then how long does it take for that to go away or for them to solve it without a choice of where they are going to sleep?
I keep watching people watch me. My gear is still new enough to look like I am headed to the airport or going camping for the weekend. I splurged on a new sleeping bag. They don't know that. People think I am homeless, I am sure. Yes, it doesn't take much to convey that.
The Decatur Marta station is a sparse place this time of night. People are getting off work at various places and headed in different directions.
Choosing an area is a hard part. It has to be public-ish. I would notice a man walking through my neighborhood at this time of night with a bundle of stuff so it is best to steer clear of the neighborhoods.
At my height and weight, I am not too concerned about a lot but this first night, I think it best to avoid people for right now.
I found a nice little space off the main roads and dark and wooded. I rolled out my brand new sleeping bag. There are lights everywhere. Cars are driving by. There are voices. I start to drift off, with heavy eyelids then I hear the crack of a twig nearby...
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