Streets of Darian (Photo Essay)

The streets of Dallas have turned cold in both weather and heart over the past few days. A chilling rain wetted the streets and any who inhabited them. I could not help but think of homeless Darian and what he must be going through. His self-exile from the shelter must be amplified by the inhospitable climate, I thought. And the stinging wind inching him further down death's road.

This is the Kennedy Memorial. By day a place for tourists, at night, a quasi-shelter. But it's a very lonely place, like an abandoned heart.

There many, many revamped and remodeled buildings in downtown Dallas. Within just a few city blocks one can see a man in his London Fog coat stepping into his BMW and another keeping dry with an inverted lawn and leaf bag.

For some, this is a time of cheer. But is there anything more sterile than a Christmas tree in a bank?

This is the famous Green Building with its thousands of feet of neon tubes lighting up the nighttime skyline. But peek inside and you see the descendents of Hebrew slaves same as ever. For many years I did work such as this. I'll never blame Darian for opting out.

This is the infamous McDonalds where a homeless man grabbed a policeman's service revolver and shot him while the crowd around him chanted, "Shoot him! Shoot him!" as the officer begged for his life. That was in 1988 but a stain like that never goes away. All sorts of people will hit you up for a "buck for a burger" as you enter or leave. My advice: don't make eye contact.

Further down is the bus station, nice and bright and warding off potential followers.

Further out on the outskirts are bail bondsmen and court houses. Something wrong with jail time and Christmas lights mixed together. I find looking at the underbelly of justice to be quite despairing.

Here we reach the industrial slums, warehouses and trailers looking to be useful just one more time. Sometimes I think America is going to turn into nothing but empty warehouses.

A desperate shelter from the weather. I'm dry here and for the moment that's all that counts. Life has been reduced to its most basic elements of survival.

A broken bottle at my feet represents so many things that can't be pieced back together. I felt like I was taking a crime scene photo, so stark and unvarnished a deed.

________________________________

Gotta be a bad ass to wander downtown after dark!