We were dreamers living under the bridges and in the train yards of my hometown. I was the youngest member of a small band of vagabond romantics who had, for various reasons, shrugged off the traditional yoke of young adulthood and had chosen to live outdoors as sort of self-realized urban survivalists and junkyard angel romantics. We held court during …
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Speak Up to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.