My universe imploded when I became homeless.  The way people have been made homeless is reminiscent of the Nazi brown shirts policy of knocking on targeted doors at ungodly hours and ordering residents to leave their homes. People have been left in complete, unbelievable shock, wondering where they can go.  Leaving home stunned and in a daze, people are left wondering where to go, what to do next, walking with leaden steps, pulse racing at the awfulness of the moment. This is one circumstance which no human, anywhere should be subjected to at any time, but especially not during peacetime.  

The realisation that one is truly, physically homeless, almost immediately and with very little warning can leave you stunned. The finality of the feeling induced by losing the infrastructure of the home and the safety provided by it is truly shocking.  

It takes a seemingly glacial passage of time to get one’s bearing’s together and to even tangentially start to accept and understand this new universe of ‘homelessness’. 

Suddenly, one is homeless and the ‘rug of life’ has gotten pulled away from under one’s feet It. It is awful, simply awful and personally, it is taking an indeterminate length of time for the dust to settle. To be honest, it is hard to know if it ever will.  

Cogitating now in 2022 on my experiences, with some distance and time away from the ‘homeless universe’ has to an extent made me stoic and made me increasingly skeptical about the ways of life generally. The fragility of life and its transience colours the way I presently live.  

Saying that the dust has seemingly settled for now but one has to be careful to adapt and adopt lifestyles to ensure that the settled dust remains undisturbed. It will always be present. 

My trust in my current circumstances, however favourable, steady and positive, can be eroded if things change for the worse. And this is my worry because homelessness has bit my ass twice. Each time was unforeseen and each time I was not to blame as I was caught in the cross-fire.