homeless raze a man without a place to sleep crawled inside a dumpster to try and stay warm. he froze to death. if the cops had found him before hypothermia closed his eyes, they wouldn't have left him there like the garbage they thought he was. they would have forced him back out onto the street to die on a bed of ice. i've never had to make a pillow out of a shirt or a thin bag made of low-density plastic. i've never had to beg for food or spare change. but that wouldn't be the worst of it. how do you survive the loneliness of not being loved? every cold corpse was a son once. a daughter. a lover. a friend. every enemy was an ally in a kinder timeline, and the panhandlers businessmen spit on were royalty. the gutter's a long way from the throne. i think the smell's about the same. 220207 what's it to you? who go blather from