How often do you walk down a city street and pass by people like the ones above and never give them a second thought. How often do we pass by and never even see them, wrapped up in our own comfortable world. How often do you see them, but you just glance and try not to make eye contact. How often do you stop to give a dollar, because you feel a little guilty, but you keep the words to a minimum and you walk away quickly, uncomfortable with them. Do you ever stop and talk to them. Because they have names and stories and experiences. One is a musician and the other a graphic designer, artist and writer. One tunes his guitar and complains about the cold, not because he is cold but because it makes tuning difficult. The other reads his newspaper, folding and unfolding it, and he smokes. But you can see in his face the ideas and the creativity that are working. They talk to us and share their stories. One tells us about a short story he’s working on set in the future where people rely on electricity to live and they have to plug in and recharge. We move on and we will probably never see them again, but I know I will remember them. And there are countless more like them. We talk to a woman who has a cat with her, trying to get money to feed herself and the two cats she has saved. We talk to a man happier than most of the well dressed and well fed people around him who gladly poses for pictures with the biggest grin I have seen in a while. We talk to another man who has been sitting in the cold and rain, wrapped up in a coat, all day. By this time we have given away our cash and we apologize. He says, “Don’t worry about it. I try to earn it by giving directions and helping people find things. I’ve been here two years so I know the city really well.” These people are real and they are all around us. It’s good to stop and talk with them and hear their stories, because everyone has a story to tell and this is reality.
Tonight I was still trying to collect some photos for my assignment, so I thought I would try for some night shots. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a mount for my tripod and had to do hand held shots, which was a little hard. Marian is bordered by Cold Spring Rd. and 30th Street. It is in a bubble. It’s surrounded by a whole other world. You can walk across the street to a gas station that has been robbed multiple times and that has bullet proof glass protecting the employees. Marian sits in the middle of a very low-income and high crime area of Indy. And yet the students go about their days completely oblivious to what lies on the other side. Oblivious to the reality of Indianapolis. The frequent police sirens and the occasional stripping of car parts on campus is a reminder of what lies around us. There are shootings, many of them fatal, carjackings and robberies that occur constantly in neighborhoods of Indianapolis, very much like the one Marian is in. Police are killed and kill. People die all the time, but Marian and much of Indianapolis, move along either ignoring what happens or continue to be completely ignorant of the situation.