Yesterday, I was coming home from work, and I can honestly, HONESTLY not remember when I had been that cold last.
Perhaps living in Sahelian and Tropical countries has made me weak. Perhaps. But I was caught in this intense wind that made me want to cling to a telephone poll for stability. This wind went right through my thin trousers fabric and nestled into my flesh. It burned my face and froze the blood in my cheeks. It attacked my toes and, like a diabetic's numb extremities, made them feel bloated and dead. It attacked every exposed corner of my body relentlessly.
And yet, I see homeless people everywhere. With thin, old army blankets over their shoulders, and short socks that leave their calf exposed. With sweat-soaked gloves and hats that probably have little effect against the numbing cold. They settle in nooks between two buildings, right in the cross-winds created by these large architectural structures. Within the warm confines of my comforter, I wonder: How do they do it? How can you stand spending a whole winter shivering until your back and leg muscle hurt?