I'm sitting in Occidental Park eating a grilled tuna and provolone sandwich. Most people here, except for a few tourists like me, appear homeless, mentally ill, or both. Two police officers slowly cycle the perimeter. This small square in Seattle's Downtown looks pretty with its Native American sculptures, its seagulls flying overhead.
To my left, a black teenager with crinkled hair drags her anorak collar across her mouth as she stares into space. Next to her sits a man in a t-shirt with multi-coloured circles on it and, beside him, an old guy in a battered straw hat who is smoking a roll-up.
As I look over at these three people, a woman comes over. She's dressed in a long black plastic coat and a black baseball cap turned backwards. She's walking onto the square from between a tall carved monkey and some other Totem animal that I don’t recognise. She is barefoot and has a large toilet roll under one arm. In the other, she holds a branch. She stabs at the pavement with it as she walks.
On top of her baseball cap, a black pigeon cleans its feathers. The woman's face is dark as peat. She yells out to the man in the t-shirt with the circles on.
He hollers back, his gold-rimmed specs glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. "I got something for ya!"
A Chinese lady next to me on the bench looks disturbed by this sight and stares, mute, at the pigeon that is still preening itself. She is well dressed - expensive shoes, neat hair. I want to share a conspiratorial smile with her, but she won't look at me. A few other tourists dot the benches. The pigeon woman sits down beside the man.
That pigeon looks as though it's always lived on her baseball cap. She stares at me with her black crack eyes. I look down at my notebook.
The Chinese lady lets out a crazy high-pitched squeal. I notice that the other tourists have left.
A cop approaches our bench. "JinSu?" he says to the Chinese lady.
She nods.
"Is anyone bothering or hurting you?" He adjusts his sunglasses. "Come see me if..."
He cycles off. A seagull flaps its wings. Fairy lights sparkle above an ivy-covered hotel doorway opposite. It looks out of place here, with its pastel umbrellas out front, its matching cloth napkins.
Everyone else is dozing. I should leave.
A man approaches the Chinese lady. "I've seen you before!" he says with a sneaky cat smile, "Did you get a shelter?"
She giggles.
I should go. I should leave.
"I t-aught I taw a puddy cat!" shouts gold-rimed specs man. "I'm having flashbacks!"
Everyone else is silent, except for pigeon woman, who eagerly munches her sandwich. Three policemen now circle on push-bikes.
I get up and say goodbye to the Chinese lady. She looks at me for a second, and then smiles.
I want to be looking up at cranes, staring out at departing ferries. I start walking down towards the waterfront. I glance back and see the Chinese lady now leaning forward, her long black hair hung in strips, her anorexic hands clutching the air.
To my left, a black teenager with crinkled hair drags her anorak collar across her mouth as she stares into space. Next to her sits a man in a t-shirt with multi-coloured circles on it and, beside him, an old guy in a battered straw hat who is smoking a roll-up.
As I look over at these three people, a woman comes over. She's dressed in a long black plastic coat and a black baseball cap turned backwards. She's walking onto the square from between a tall carved monkey and some other Totem animal that I don’t recognise. She is barefoot and has a large toilet roll under one arm. In the other, she holds a branch. She stabs at the pavement with it as she walks.
On top of her baseball cap, a black pigeon cleans its feathers. The woman's face is dark as peat. She yells out to the man in the t-shirt with the circles on.
He hollers back, his gold-rimmed specs glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. "I got something for ya!"
A Chinese lady next to me on the bench looks disturbed by this sight and stares, mute, at the pigeon that is still preening itself. She is well dressed - expensive shoes, neat hair. I want to share a conspiratorial smile with her, but she won't look at me. A few other tourists dot the benches. The pigeon woman sits down beside the man.
That pigeon looks as though it's always lived on her baseball cap. She stares at me with her black crack eyes. I look down at my notebook.
The Chinese lady lets out a crazy high-pitched squeal. I notice that the other tourists have left.
A cop approaches our bench. "JinSu?" he says to the Chinese lady.
She nods.
"Is anyone bothering or hurting you?" He adjusts his sunglasses. "Come see me if..."
He cycles off. A seagull flaps its wings. Fairy lights sparkle above an ivy-covered hotel doorway opposite. It looks out of place here, with its pastel umbrellas out front, its matching cloth napkins.
Everyone else is dozing. I should leave.
A man approaches the Chinese lady. "I've seen you before!" he says with a sneaky cat smile, "Did you get a shelter?"
She giggles.
I should go. I should leave.
"I t-aught I taw a puddy cat!" shouts gold-rimed specs man. "I'm having flashbacks!"
Everyone else is silent, except for pigeon woman, who eagerly munches her sandwich. Three policemen now circle on push-bikes.
I get up and say goodbye to the Chinese lady. She looks at me for a second, and then smiles.
I want to be looking up at cranes, staring out at departing ferries. I start walking down towards the waterfront. I glance back and see the Chinese lady now leaning forward, her long black hair hung in strips, her anorexic hands clutching the air.
