A year ago I was working on a series of
"Letters from a Broken Heart"
|Letter from a homeless man, 2013 |
for upcoming series Letters From a Broken Heart.
I didn't think the series was as compelling as
my other works and I put all the letters, research,
drawings, and journal in a box.
Today I opened the box.
To Whom It May Concern:
I used to look like those urbane movie stars of the 50's. Dark hair, dark suit, dark shoes, cool smokes. Days full of life, work, and family. I can't say it was one thing that changed it all, but a series of little things that turned into one big, huge, gigantic misunderstanding. Yes, it was a misunderstanding. Like August trash left in front of your door and then you're locked out and have to sleep on it. Then there's a strike and a layoff. and everything dies like a neglected garden.
I don't mean to,
I mean, well, I am not sure
who is going to read this letter, so I don't want to spill all my business. If
I knew exactly what you want to know, well, perhaps, that would allow me to
better explain things.
My fingers are cold, I am about to leave the cafe. They have a 90 minute time limit here. They know me and like me. I'm not picky like their other customers. Some days Angie brings me a meal some spoiled rich girl would send back. I would always say that the meal is perfect -- and then it's on the house. Angie's not here today, so I am going to take a walk. You know, city life. I always like city life with a garden, little red tomatoes, eggplants.
By the way, I am not sure why people say I am homeless. I am temporarily without shelter - displaced. I am not going to make a big thing over it, but I just want to set the "wording" straight.
P.S. You can leave my payments for the letters at the cafe. The address is on the other side of this napkin. If I am not here, leave it with Angie.
P.P.S. Who is reading this letter?
Letters from a Broken Heart Series
©2013 Suzanne Coley