Two months ago I was homeless. I lived under the 94 overpass at the California Ave. exit. I dug a hole at the top of the dirt hill, put in a sleeping bag, and put my food in the snow surrounding my living plot.
This was the first time I was homeless. Previously I relied on the shelter of apartments. But I was entering a new period of my life. I needed a completely different kind of space. One that defragged my old idea of how to live.
Every night I would park at the Shell station around the corner, cross Diversey and walk up the hill under the freeway to my make shift abode. I felt safe in my bed because my sleeping bag was white. This made the space appear to be all snow and no people.
While I lay in my bed I could feel the freeway shake above me. The vibration was always scary for a few minutes and then I was lulled into deep sleep.
After two months of living this way, I woke up one morning knowing it was time for a change again. I got up, threw dirt and snow over the hole and went looking for an apartment. I ended up getting a studio in Evanston.
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