Dear Anonymous,
Living the street life. Always a story. Always a little hustle. Always a smile. Always on the edge. Always a boundary to push. A touch of the outcast. The anarchist. The shark.
But all I can see is a young man who is someones son. A brother.
He always leaves with a 'love ya'.
And I think he arrives with that too. And then I think that is such a good way to arrive and leave, with a 'love ya' spoken or unspoken on our lips.