There is room on the third level of the parkade. We walk down to street level. This is the border of the famous Downtown Eastside. Chinatown is just one block to the right. We have to turn left to find the coffee shop where Carl's distant relative is going to see us.
"Pretty sorry looking individuals out today", says Carl.
"It's much worse along Hastings", say I. "There has been an explosion of homelessness in the last several years, and now with the pandemic it's gotten even worse."
"Don't any of those people want to work for a living?"
"It isn't that simple", Francois weighs in. "I did some work with homeless people in Montreal. Some of the stories were just heartbreaking. but to accuse them of not wanting to work would be like kicking a child. And it simply isn't true."
"Drugs? Alcohol? Mental illness?"
"In some cases yes, brother Carl. But let's just say that there are people who have never enjoyed your privileges, and from what you've told us, for a while not even your own privileges were much protection for you when you were on the street in Amsterdam."
Carl does not deign to dignify that with an answer, but I can tell by his silence that Francois has just hit him in a ver y tender, and very vulnerable place...
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