Homeless in Paris Homeless in Paris | Page 263

B"H Chapter: Bald Eagle There was a young child whose na me was Happy Joe, by far the smartest boy on the block, and the eldest son, but not he first born to the large number of children that made up his family. Our s mall section of a long street emerged from the road both leading into, and out of town. Many roads a man may travel until he gets to the town where Happy Jo e lived. The fields on both sides thereof stretched into oblivion in a consistent monotony. The pavement stretches forth as though a singular strand of hair sitting in the middle of a bald scalp. Ironically, most the town's residents earn their livelihood at the only factory in the town, which produces myrtle extract to stimulate and regenerate hair roots. On approach to town, the fields yield to dwelling structures, with cultivated yards and a white picket fence. M ost of the residences include also barns and pens for beasts and fowl; and one catches a glimpse of various domesticated animals penned in different plots. All surrounding roads and streets lead to the downtown mall. This singular structural entity evidences existence of human life in the area , the old country store that was renovated through several reincarnations until becoming a mall. It houses the government offices, private medical and lega l services, entertainment facilities, and every business operatio n run by the residents within a twenty -six kilo mete r circumference. Decades passed and Happy Joe grew up and established his family. During my recent visit to Joe Town, I noticed that greed mongers had snatched up all the land that people kept as a family inheritance, in some instances, several generations. Placed at several meters distance are whole rows of metal poles with strange heads and eyes that peer beyond all veils of privacy; electric light signals, trucks, busses and other motor vehicles, the only vestige of life that re mains visible. There were eve n video cameras attached to the light poles, progress has decimated the privacy of Joe Town dwellers. You can't eve n have an idle discussion without the city officials wondering what goes on in your head, what goes on in your mind. I could hardly discern the path had now beco me a wide junction that all but erased Happy's habitat; instinctively, I turned in the right direction, but there was a charge to get 263