ABSTRACT
Somehow, 12 Degrees at 6 a.m. was colder than I had counted on. I think of myself as relatively immune to cold, but standing on a deserted sidewalk outside Penn Station with the thought of ten days ahead of me as a homeless man, the immunity vanished. When I pulled my collar closer and my watch cap lower, it wasn’t to look the part of a street person; it was to keep the wind out.
