Once a Year, Dallas' Homeless Count Reminds Us This Is Bigger Than Any of Us Can Fathom — Or Bear

This, I imagine, is what life will look like after the apocalypse — people sleeping beneath freeway overpasses, tucked not in canvas tents but stuffed between steel girders where they meet the top of concrete slopes, their makeshift mattresses and grimy blankets wedged into the dark, into the cold. The residents of these doomsday dorms will be surrounded by their scant personal effects — one or two changes of clothes (at best), an extra pair of ratty sneakers, drained disposable cigarette lighters and empty Whip-It canisters displayed like trophies. Their sole companion will be the deafening echo of traffic whooshing below commingled with the thunking roar of cars passing overhead. This scene, brutal and unsparing, will make a tent city feel downright cozy by comparison.But this is not a grim vision of a distant future. This is the right here, the right now. The every single day and every single night in the lives of the homeless, whose numbers we can't even begin to fathom. Maybe because it's easier not to.  Continue reading...