Quite a few of them walk around La Placita, some are drug addicts and some are plain poor, very poor, have given up on trying to make a life like the one required by the “sálvese el que pueda” philosophy of the type of capitalist society where we all live in. They are not intrusive, walk around, help the non-homeless with finding a parking or show where is this bar or that restaurant. At times, they ask for money; at times, they just ask to be invited to a coffee. At times they are shadows moving around, keeping a distance. They all keep a distance. Careful, self-protective against the possibilities of facing people who are too powerful or not happy to have them around, and be mistreated (I have seen quite a few people who have been very abusive with them). One very late night during these quarantine times, I heard these people yelling at each other, so loud I thought it was happening right in front of my apartment balcony. It was not. Then I looked in the distance and saw a few of them talking to each other, moving around the sidewalk, into the street, back to the sidewalk, disagreeing, agreeing, taking positions on issues I could not completely understand. Real loud, it was quite obvious they felt free to hear their own voices.
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