Borrowing the Street Back

Reflection

Yesterday, something shifted.

Instead of explaining my life, I described my day — as it happened — moving through the street. I told Pete who I met. What I noticed. What surprised me.

John had a stroke. He probably won’t last long.

I sat in meetings at Mathers House with Hobart City Council.

I visited Jutland Village, where residents were quietly organising food distribution among themselves.

I didn’t present outcomes. I didn’t frame it as a program. I just walked — and narrated.

It felt strange, almost like borrowing the street back for a day. Not pretending to be homeless, but letting the street teach me again.

Pete engaged. Asked questions. Shared thoughts.

Not because I had answers — but because we were finally standing somewhere recognisable again.

Hope didn’t arrive as optimism.

It arrived as shared ground.

More reflections about hope and doubt:

• Walking With a Story
• Hope That Learns to Wait
• Borrowing the Street Back
• When Hope Stops Working the Way It Used To
• The Quiet Weight of Words