The street is a blaze with the dying sun. The traffic wizzing down Ponce De Leon Avenue makes it hard to believe this is a Sunday. the air is soft but the concrete under this mans head is hard as hell. Tucked under the  Atlanta library bus stop i find Curtis, Dirty as a dog in a trash dump and folded dead asleep. Everything around the two of us glows as the sun drops into magic hour. The sound of my shutter somehow rises above the den of street noise to wake Curtis . We shake hands, we say hello , we talk briefly about how he is doing. I ask him if he is o k that i have  taken his photo while he was asleep, he nods his head yes. I grip his palm tightly, inserting a twenty dollar bill………. he say thank you……no Curtis thank you.
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