by Scott Walker 

“It’s okay to be homeless,” he told me with dripping wet hair in the midnight rain, his shoulders covered with a moving blanket.

Words spoke aloud to another are reassurance that we are normal, we are okay, we are surviving – it is a way of handling one more night on the streets.

His words were similar to an alcoholic saying, “One day at a time.”

Following his cue while handing him a new sleeping bag I said, “It is okay to be homeless… Some travel the world while homeless.”

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