Luis used to live in a dumpster. It is right off of Huger St. downtown, maybe a half-mile from the State Museum. It is full of trash, turned over on its side for easy access. He didn’t tell me that he was sleeping in there until after we got him in his apartment. I really almost threw up when he took me there to show me. When I asked him why he stayed there he explained that it was the only good shelter he could find from the rain, and he knew that no one would mess with him or rob him there. I feel a little sick right now as I think about it.
It still gets me when Luis and I drive down Huger, and he looks over toward the dumpster, smiles and says “I love my new place.”
Luis used to always tell me that he lived under a bridge…I guess that was so it wouldn't worry me.
I'll say it again–I'm so blessed to be able to call that man my friend.
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