An old friend is a social worker helping specifically the Homeless of the South. We have the occasional back, and forth on this.
As I just said to him:
"The crime is that we have allowed it for so long, and seem more that willing to put up with it for some time to come. It is a very quiet kind of murder of both the bodies, and souls of our brethren.
One day I hope to read the story of "The American Era of Homelessness" 1978~2050 
How it began. All the social underpinnings. The gaps of both morality, and politics public, and private. It's evil height then it's slow so very slow ending. The epilogue alone would be biblical in content, and length."
( Above is the only portrait of myself which I know of from my year in what I called "The Outside".   Enlarge. Look to my eyes. The drifting bleakness of them.
That's still me. I'm still there. Like Vets of War I'm still there.