As I headed to my tent at 3 a.m., I noticed a number of homeless people had joined the camp. They looked delighted to have the new donated pillows and blankets, but they didn’t appear to support the strict no-drugs, no-alcohol policy.
Later, I was woken by the sound of a man hurling violently outside my tent. I remembered all that talk about the big-city rats.
The revolution stopped being much fun. I was never so glad to see dawn break over Southie.