Vancouver - the way I see it

Before I started my new job, my commute to work was a 10 minute stroll up Davie and across Burrard.
On a good day, wearing reasonable shoes I could do it in 7, my iPod plugged in, my eyes focussed in front of me, past the pink waste bins, and Marquise wine cellars. Past Numbers and Celebrities. And along that short stretch of sidewalk from Thurlow to Burrard, always there were figures curled up in dirty blankets, gracing storefronts and often times simply the sidewalk, cardboard signs carefully scribed *spare change*, *broke and hungry*, *anything will help*.

The subject of this is controversial, the sidewalks of this city are literally littered with ragged faces and dirty fingernails. A couple sits together on the sidewalk with beaming smiles and outstretched hands. A shaven haired girl sings, her guitar held across her chest. A trembling man holds out his hat *spare some change*, a bearded man throws his arms in the air and fights the demons only he can see. A dreadlocked woman dances and teases the cars speeding past.

This is how I see Vancouver, this gritty reality of a city. Of addicts, and illness. Despair and circumstance. This is as part of Vancouver as the mountains and the oceans, it is a part of the city I never want to ignore, nor turn a blind eye to.