Keep Portland weird

One can feel winter on their shoulder, gently tapping to begin.
The wind is swirling with electric energy causing the leaves to stand erect, then fall as they take their last tumble toward the earth. I playfully kick them up into the air, like one does as a child.
Days like these are my favourite, the last one in November, here in a new city, the one of roses.
Portland.

I dress in a knitted cap, red hoodie, and a pea green coat that has become too big for my frame. When did I become so small…
Baggy pants with warm long underwear to stave off the cold. Old shoes, stained and frayed at the edges, but comfortable walking attire. I head in no particular direction, eager for what I may find here.
For the beginning of the holiday season, most people I encounter do not seem happy, as I receive no smiles, eyes avert my gaze, cold shoulders for the most part.
I stop to help a homeless man, and look in a shop window and see myself. We look the same, the homeless and I.
I find comfort in this, in helping, and this realization is enough for me to leave this city a little wiser.

2 Comments

  1. Thanks Dicky.
    I try to keep it real, the holidays are a hard time for me, like many people, I suppose.

    The black and white photo's and the sad homeless faces of Portland brought out the feel of this post.

    But having someone from across the world even inquire as to how I am means a great deal.

  2. Fantastic photography William. Get the feeling you are in dark mood lately? Your photos reflect it. When you're in Africa they are all bright colours and happy faces. Great piece of writing too. Loved this post.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?