Every time I drive into town, I pass a tent city that was not there when I left Canada for Australia five years ago. A clutch of colourful tents sit nestled in a heap of drifting garbage. Some semi-framed structures made of old pallets change the skyline daily.
One day, while sitting at the adjacent red light, I saw people emerge from the rubbish into a drifting fog that rose from the melting snow. They were limping. Their mouths were drawn. They were hungry …