The Story of a Wagon

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Here is a wagon:

I think it looks pretty cool.  If you look at it close you can see that it was made personally.  Makes me wonder what it’s for: a trailer for a bike?  An outdoor storage place?

Oh, look: there’s a note on it

So it was actually someone’s home.  And people kept calling the police on him, even though it was legal for him to sleep in this kind of a home. The harassment made him decide that it wasn’t worth having a roof over his head.  Maybe he was a bit paranoid.  Or maybe someone in the neighborhood didn’t want his kind in their neighborhood.  That’s pretty sad.

It’s sad because people in houses can’t seem to get along with people without houses, and the other way around, too.

It’s sad because those who have and those who don’t should be able to get along, at least to live in the same neighborhood.

It’s sad because we are supposed to be a land of freedom, but we can’t seem to find the will to live and let live.

It’s sad because we are so scared of each other, of what might happen, that we have to separate one from another, without even talking out our disagreements.

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