The homeless woman who lives on the riverbank opposite my office window has brought in more junk--cardboard boxes and plastic sheets--probably to get ready for winter. The space is just big enough to scrunch into and lie down in and it's right on the mud that tops the pilings. I can't imagine anyone sleeping there, but this woman does and has for a long time. Apparently, the police come in and roust her out occasionally, but she always comes back again, and they have better things to do than to keep an eye on her. Sometimes she appears to have roommates, as it were, and I picture them all sleeping head to toe to head to toe.
It's an odd scene in the middle of urban renewal and picturesque coastline. Yuppies jog by in their running gear unaware, and cars park in the neighboring lot at $35 each. Meanwhile, here on the sixth floor I look out the window at the pelicans and the seagulls wheeling by.
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