7.03.2025

More bus stop chronicles. A guy cleans the dirt patch in the shadow of the abandoned strip mall where the depanneur and laundromat used to be. Well they're still there they just don't operate like they used to. Some of us can relate. This guy is probably 60, dark with a fuzz of gray beard, backpack. He picks up rubble and stones and dirt with a flattened Bud Lite box and deposits the refuse in the trashcan by the sidewalk. This goes on for a while. I've seen people hanging out in this spot in the evenings but the way he's cleaning it up alters my perception of the space. It's a common area, maybe a living room. Worth keeping tidy. Neighbors less likely to complain. Hard to call a dirt patch a homeless camp if there are no tents to pull up by the stakes. On his fourth trip or so we catch each other's gaze and he leans toward me with a grin, says something like, for the bus, and I say oui, and I have no idea what I just agreed with him on but he seems satisfied. He returns to his chores and the bus arrives and I'm off to the office space I never have to clean. Some of the tech workers (I assume) have dumped spinach and bits of chewed meat in the sink we all share.