Concrete Pillows
In New York City
by Herb Bardavid
This is Christian

On the corner of 72nd Street and Broadway is a famous hot dog stand, Gray's Papaya. Often, there is a line to get one (or more) of their hot dogs. Sitting on the sidewalk right in front of Gray's Papaya was Christian. Christian is 35 years old and has been homeless since the age of 17.
Christian is the only child of a single mother. When I asked him where he was from, he said, "I am from here. I am from the planet Earth." However, as our conversation progressed, he revealed that he had grown up in Roxbury, Massachusettes. He mentioned that he didn't do well in school and often got into trouble for fighting. Eventually, he was expelled at the age of seventeen after stabbing another student with a pencil because the student was bothering him.
Wanderlust seemed to be in his blood. He told me he could only ease his troubled mind by walking - endlessly. When expelled from high school, he saw it as an opportunity to travel, albeit by foot, as he couldn't afford transportation. First, he walked North to Maine, then to New Hampshire, before returning to Boston.
He didn't like Boston, calling it dirty, so he kept moving. From Boston, he walked to the other end of Massachusetts, to Great Barrington, and from there, he eventually made his way to New York City.
Christian told me he's always been content living on the streets of various cities. He has never considered looking for a job or earning money. Though somewhat philosophical and perhaps unrealistic, his outlook on life appears to sustain him as he navigates the streets of many cities. He frequently laughed during our conversation, expressing how much he enjoys his lifestyle. He said he loves living in New York City and hasn't been bothered by the police or the public. He added that most people are generous, often leaving money in his cup or bringing him food.
Much of our conversation was difficult to follow, as Christian often spoke in vague or overly philosophical terms, at times sounding unrealistic. I'm not sure if he walked from Massachusetts to New York City, and I don't know if he's been homeless since he was 17. However, I know that is his story, and I choose not to challenge it.


When I asked if he had eaten that day, he replied that our conversation was nourishing enough. He doesn't think about the future, saying, "There is no such thing as the future. There is only now." When I inquired about where he planned to sleep that night, he told me. "Night doesn't exist." When his body feels tired, he sleeps wherever he happens to be at that moment.
Christian's idea of existence certainly appears unrealistic to most of us. However, he seemed very happy and content with his lifestyle. I hope that he remains happy as he continues to rest his head on the concrete pillows of the New York City sidewalks.