There\u2019s a Bloor Street regular who spends his days hawking Black History Month pamphlets. He has a kind of appealing 1950\u2019s look to him, and a dash of fast-talking charm, but those qualities are always pushed to the side by a ready anger that\u2019s never far from the surface.<\/p>\n
After being rejected by two guys and then seeing me approaching, he said in a voice that was both inviting and reproachful, \u201cHey man, don\u2019t be like those guys, why dontcha buy one?\u201d I shook my head, and this brought out his bitterness, \u201c You\u2019re not in a hurry, man, you\u2019re not doing anything, I can see that!\u201d<\/p>\n
He was right, but it still felt like an insult, like it was intended to be an insult, and as I sat down to have a tea on front of the Common, I was now acutely aware that I was no different than any of the other drifters who composed the street at this hour.<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\n A young homeless man with a big, spacey grin on his face and a huge backpack slung over his shoulders came down the sidewalk. Everything made him happy, and when he saw my tea he beamed as if he had just seen a mystical object. I thought he might reach down and take it, but a display bicycle in front of Curbside Cycle caught his eye. Fashionable, with a big, wooden delivery container at the front, it was just sitting there, one of those art objects that got people in off the street to talk to the engaging staff.<\/p>\n