“What a powerful piece of performance art,” I thought as I approached this scene next to the train station Quik Trak machines.
“The unique poses of each exhausted, world-weary sleeper juxtaposed against the saccharine feel-good pictures some marketer had placed in the waiting area. The ticket machines, only an arms-reach away, representing escape, yet so far away, because of economic disparity.”
Then I thought. “Wait. This is the train station. It’s reality. This is what performance art tries to emulate.”
Then I remembered I hate performance art. it’s pretentious and weird.
It dawned on me then that 20 years ago, I would have looked at this scene and thought “Scary” and/or “homeless” and/or “how am I going to get to the Quik Trak machine?” Now it appears as urban artwork.
“Strange how perspective changes,” I thought as I walked away with my printed ticket. “Why would I ever have thought sleeping people were dangerous?”
Times and perspective having changed, I took a closer look at their clothing and possessions. “And why would I have thought people homeless who are generally clean, have reasonably new clothes, which are also clean and in good repair?”
Which made me think of the night last week, when the temperature first dipped below 50 degrees, and I walked for an hour at midnight with an old jacket looking for a homeless person who needed it, only to discover I couldn’t find one of the appropriate size for the jacket in my hand. “Odd,” I thought. “On the night I go looking for a homeless person, there isn’t one to be found.”
Which brought me back to the moment at hand. “Sleep well,” I whispered (not really, but in my head I did).
Suddenly making me think I was thinking way too much, especially for 5:20 am.
Now I’m on the train. I think I’ll take a nap.