Cooking some dinner...
"Brit, you gotta check out Alicia's bed!" David yelled over to me. Their little "camp" was divided up into platforms made by crates and boxes. Each "bed" was elevated with boards and blankets on the top. I plopped down on Alicia's mat and let my feet dangle off the bed while my head rested comfortably.
I looked up and saw the rusty beams of the overpass. It was beginning to mist, so swirls of little dew drops danced down from the sky, illuminated by street lamps and the car's headlights. It made me sad looking at the rusty bridge; the beams overlapping, creating a binding image. Alicia had to feel so bound. Stuck under this bridge, under the beams, and the rain, and society.
Yet she smiled that lovely smile and pranced around camp, with such hop in her step. I slid off her bed and walked back over to the warm grill.
"It's a great bed, isn't it?" she said
"Yes," I smiled back. "It's perfect."
Some other pictures from the night: