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Trash-Can Dream
The tragedy of René Robert and our appalling apathy
Yesterday, the New York Times reported the death of René Robert on the streets of Paris. This beloved photographer famous for sensitive portraits of Flamenco artists was found near-dead of hypothermia after lying for an entire night on a busy street in Paris, totally ignored by passerby who apparently wrote him off as homeless and therefore deserving of whatever fate had befallen him.
Making the story even more painful and poignant is the fact that when he was finally assisted, it was by two homeless people who found him around 5 in the morning, having spent the entire frigid night crumpled where he’d fallen. He died of severe hypothermia in the hospital.
This story made me cry. It also made me really mad.
A few years ago, I had a same-day “procedure” (gotta love that euphemism) where they essentially punched out a piece of my cervix at Kaiser Hospital. The medical staff sent me home too early. Shortly after I exited the hospital doors, big, black squares began obliterating my vision. To avoid falling, I immediately lay down on the sidewalk in front of the hospital.
As I fought to stay conscious, my eyes closed, I heard and sensed people walking by, stepping over and beside me.
