Where else do you leave it? It is yours and all the purple people who pass by know that it is where you sleep, because there is no more. Now I've found you in the fountain, washing your armpits, how can you feet, removing those tatty socks and looking through your bag for a new shirt. Today you want to go handsome, you tell me. That is Sunday, fuck, and it has to go handsome. Raised like me in the Judeo-Catholic culture, it is not surprising that you have such great concerns, although it differentiates you from many who know what day you live on, what day it represents, what date it is.
You want a home and you beg of me. I do not have it but together we will get it for you. You know about mechanics and you've been an operator. It's not a big deal, you tell me, but for me the simple fact that you want to get out of this working situation excites me intellectually. Your car waits in the street for scrap and what you find. Above all you will find people who, with their eyes, grieve, apiate, or directly despise. You ignore. You follow your own. At night, your jacket awaits you. The cold, too. Hope, which you never lose, will stalk you again. This article has been written by Daniel Marin , an entrepreneur without a roof and his talent is photo-journalism. Note from the Entrepreneurs Without Roof Association .You can make a donation to help you through the bank account of the Entrepreneurs Without Roof Association with the concept #Cobijos: IBAN No ES78 0081-1699-53-0001058408