Arrived late last night. The midnight walk from Waterfront Station to the Patricia Hotel is always a shock, never more than at midnight on a chilly Tuesday. The glows of crack bowls lit my way like eerie, wayward jack-a-lanterns. Cop cars' sirens, ambulances, a lady trying to scrap passers-by wearing an open, tattered blue housecoat wide open, her wrinkled, sagging tits and unkempt bush blowing in the cool night air--these were the sad symphonies of this Vancouver night. Cardboard beds lining sections of the street as bums and junkies huddled for warmth, protection and camaraderie. This is the family we so often ignore.
Welcome home. Welcome to Canada.
This is a strip where our human condition is displayed in its rawest form. This is not Disneyland, this is not the Sunshine Coast--this is our humanity and these our frailties and our failures—and all of this is all so wonderfully real.