We have one week left. Everyone is working hard, heads down. Fred and Ronzig are calling people for portraits and we have forgotten that this was the week for it. Lots of denial going on here! No-one is dressed for it, has combed hair. Oh, well. We are gorgeous anyway.
But the news arrives that one of the men had his bike stolen.
After he pays rent he has about 139 dollars left for food and sundries. He doesn't panhandle, sell drugs, or steal. In order to make the money he needs to live he does bottle runs. For this work he needs transportation. His bike.
He came in and tried to catch his breath. "Sorry, I'm late, have to finish this run.... I'll be back in 10 minutes. Can't leave the bottles here, in this neighbourhood they'll be gone in no time..." And off he went to cash them in. An enormous weight on his back, on his bicycle. The only means of transportation he has. He has been working hard, and his usual clean-shaven face has a few days growth on it.
He comes back and later goes out for a smoke and returns downcast. "My bike's gone." It had been locked up; not a particularly strong lock, it was inexpensive - what he could afford, maybe what had been given to him. He didn't seem particularly angry. Just needed to go and do the rounds to see if he could find who had taken it.
He has recently moved into housing and lives far away and has no transit pass. No way to do his bottle runs now. No way. No way.
Funny, but I find myself greatly angered by the loss of his bicycle. By the fact that he has such a small economic margin that we as a society have constructed and expect him to stay healthy and safe on. And I don't know if it is possible.