I find myself turning on my iPhone on my long commutes and writing a blog entry whenever I can using my blog app. It's late at night in Vancouver and that's when all the interesting people come out.
It's like they hide from the warmth of the sun's rays and stir only after the heat from the concrete start to dissipates into the night air. The night shines with it's beauty and I can see why these individuals wait.
Even on a Sunday night, the city is full of life. The can/ trash "civil engineers", the city's unpaid cleaners are working and making a meager income from the day people's trash. They run around in their make shift transportation (mostly shopping carts from Safeway), which is covered with plastic bags full of their night's collection. Which they will turn in the morning for change to buy their breakfast or booze.
There is a look of determination in their eyes not to be begging on the streets but to try to make some kind of living from a city that has (in their eyes) turned its back on them. Most of them are out on the streets by their own choice but there are others that are there out of desperation. Their stories are written on their dark brown sun tanned skins, the dirt creasing their faces and the limp matted hair speaks of a hard life.
It's these people that I love watching from the corner of my eye. I walk by a late night Japanese grocery store on my way home every night and lately there has been this young man, who is out on the streets reading his book under the fluorescent glare from the shop's store front. I bought him a sandwich and a pop, as he looked like he's not eaten in days. I think tomorrow, when I walk by him again (and if he's there), it will be a good day to quit smoking and give him the rest of my smokes.
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