Usually I write with a lot of humor. Sometimes, when I'm maybe a little too close to the subject, I don't or can't or whatever. It's a city where there are no addresses. There are no jobs. There are few possessions.
Some residents barely have a name, or at least none that anyone else knows.
Between the bright lights of the city above and their murky reflection on the river below lies Lower Wacker drive. Lower Wacker, and the surrounding maze of underground side streets, parking spaces, and loading docks, is where many homeless go on cold nights to escape the bitter wind and sleep for a few hours on the warm ventilation grates. Some stay for a night or two and move on with their lives. Some, who feel they have nowhere else to go, stay for an entire winter. A few stay even longer.