My home town is a rag tag collection of the homeless. A quirky lot who refuse to conform to the recent onslaught of gentrification. Folks with trolleys for homes who wheel their belongings through town with the occassional sermon and without apology. The foul-mouthed and ill-mannered addicts looking for their next hit. The brawling unwanted youth. All off-putting to the millionaire developers. All just fine, provided you treat them right.
Anything resembling culture with heart is gone, replaced by generic cafes and high rise appartment blocks. Places that no longer let the characters of this town in and block out the light.
Parramatta is a river city sitting between the big show Sydney harbour and the stunning Blue Mountains. Historically it was a meeting place for local Aboriginal tribes to gather and discuss tribal business.
Until the council's recent cash grab it had retained this sense of a place of gathering. It's just that those gathering were not the kind of crowd the gentry were after. They just weren't worth any money.
Now I sit among this transition watching the lower income earners packed with personality being priced out while people carry their Starbucks in suits with heads down to avoid the crazy.
On my walk to work this morning I caught a sliver of autumm light breaking through a gap between the high rises. One of the local homeless men planted in the middle so that everyone was forced to either walk around him, or into him. Trolley by his side, face tilted to the sun, taped together headphones with Trance music pumping in his ears. With eyes closed he missed all the grey and charcoal folk taking a wide berth. Missed the snide looks and sniggers while he swayed in the warmth of the light. Mesmerised and mesmerising.
I watched him and smiled. All these people thinking him insane, or problematic. Oblivious to the fact that he had found a golden shard among these giant shadows. That he had spent the night wrapped in cold autumn air. That heat could be, for some, a rare delight as the cooler season folds itself into the crevices of the bus stops and shop doorways where he sleeps. The sun a cause for celebration, a reason to sway to your own beat in the street.
As I watched his joy and complete immersion in the moment I thought "You, my friend, have got it going on."
And I wished that I had my camera so I could keep him forever.
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