Sitting in our car outside of my brother’s apartment in Philadelphia, I saw a man made shack no bigger than the size of a restroom stall. Coated with what might be considered useless garbage to us, it was a home. Fervently decorated in blue tarp, tattered blankets, the ground was made soft by old newspaper, the walls of the confine made durable by cardboard and crate material. Hidden between a metal beam supporting the bridge overhead, and a rusted chain link fence towards the rear, the home was an image imprinted into my consciousness. From within my car, I pondered a homeless lifestyle, while the heat blasted from the fans around me, and music and texting poured from my electronic devices. Eating an orange at the time, I wondered how the person inside found themselves in such a circumstance. I wondered when the last time they ate was, or whether they were warm, or whether anyone even cared that they were out there. I sat there, my eyes fixed on the faded blue tarp, and red blanket, that seemed to be the only protection the poor soul had from the bitterness of winter… and of the concrete world surrounding.   Lost in a fiscal exile, the person most likely was alone. Words from my brother’s girlfriend when they finally arrived to the car indicated that the man indeed had a friend, a homeless friend just across the street. Unlike him however, the friend lost his shelter the week prior from the ravaging of participants in the “Occupy” riots nearby.  Why was he the one that had to endure this? Hasn’t he been through enough? Undercover of darkness, the friend’s shelter was destroyed.  However, our friend’s remained. A week later, we returned from the shore to drop my brother off at the apartment again, to return to his life, and us to ours.  But a glance out the car window revealed the remaining shack. Not yet torn down from angry protesters or police officers, it stood, tired from the unceasing wind, and the constant battle against the cold.  Minor rennovations to the outside confirmed that a person indeed is living inside, a person seeking his role in this world. This must be the place.