This is Roberta.  You can view my exploration through photographs of this strong woman above and read her words bellow.

I'm homeless in Savannah, Georgia, USA. I live in the woods a half-hour bike ride outside of town, I put up a tent when it rains. In the summer the mosquitoes own any square inch of skin left exposed. In the winter, well, damned if I want to get out of the sleeping bag in the morning because it can get real cold here. Yes, I realize this server is in Iceland where they might say "piffle" to a Savannah winter, but if you've lived in the southern US for nigh upon twenty five years, even 50°F is, believe me, FREEZING!

I'm 62 years old, unemployed (and I've been underemployed all my life), my religion I might variously describe as Libertarian Humanist or Unitarian Universalist depending on my mood, my politics I might describe also as Libertarian Humanist. Savannah is a lovely city and I never ask myself "what the heck am I doing in Savannah" but I do sometimes wonder what the heck am I doing in the deep South.

I'm writing this in the Sentient Bean just south of the park; it's my favorite coffee house. When anyone in Savannah says "the park" they mean Forsyth Park, a lovely park of two enormous lawns, a gaudy fountain not quite as nice as its inspiration in Paris, a big band shell, an overpriced cafe full of tourists, and lots of trees dripping with spanish moss (a southern specialty). The Bean here has four kinds of plain old coffee, a plethora of fancy coffee drinks, bistro food mostly vegetarian, some vegan, much of it local. There's a health food store right next door. That's where I buy herbs. The entire store as far as I'm concerned, exists only to support the bulk herbs in the back. Boo pharmaceuticals, boo pills, boo Western medicine, yay herbs! The Bean here has a horrendously uneven concrete floor and most of the tables sport folded-up somethings under a leg or two. At the moment there's an event in the half of the space, curtained off. It's an open mike night featuring dreadful rap music. Oh, well. Rap music (or do they call it hippity-hop?) at least serves to prove the English language and poetry are not dead. Just suffering. Personally, I'd rather listen to opera.

Also at The Bean we have, at least once a week, a movie guy presenting Very Strange Movies. Some so bad they're funny as hell, some so obscure they're fascinating. Personally, I like foreign movies. Currently I'm struggling through La piel que habito (The Skin I Live In) by Pedro Almodóvar. Struggling because I'm watching it mostly without subtitles and my Spanish is a bit weak.

Wow, is this long enough?

-Roberta Hopkins, March 2015