Before attending a luncheon where my boss would be speaking, I went by my local library to print out a copy of his draft speech. Because both of my home printers are busted.
Inside, as always, were the homeless. They’ve as much right be there as anybody else, of course, even if not remotely interested in reading, just sleeping or sheltering or loitering. In the past, I’ve witnessed violent episodes here, someone shooting up in the washroom, deranged shouting from the mentally ill, and those poor librarians trying to politely manage the situation, though there are now security guards.
