By Cathy Eden I smell him before I see him: feral, dank, his scuffed denims exuding the mustiness of last night’s inhospitable subway. He’s at the till beside me. He’s about my son’s age, good looking under the thick black beard. How many months has it been since he’s shaved? Perhaps five or six. His hair curls and knots in his neck, like a ragged pelt. If he were a […]

Categories: BLOG: On my mind
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