About

“There is no avoiding war, it can only be postponed to the advantage of your enemy.” (Niccolo Machiavelli 1502) 

Those words faded to black on my nine-inch portable DVD screen as I sat on the brownish leather recliner that occupied the golden lobby of the hotel. My head throbbed as it pondered the sequences I just witnessed or maybe it was the lack of hydration from wandering from earlier with little to my name. 

 Sinking further into the recliner, focusing on the shimmering ceiling and the chandeliers that dangled from them, the year was 2007 and I had just finished my nightly rounds of tagging buildings with a spray can. My palace of a hideout became routine for my eighteen-year-old self. Films and books in the lobby as I waited for my bed to be relieved from his duty at work. 

Tonight’s feature, Revolver, by Guy Ritchie on the big, little portable screen. Scene after scene, I was bewildered by the presence of enlightening intellect and conversations throughout the film. From the cunning presence of Andre 3000 as Avi, to the impeding and tenacious antagonist, Dorothy, who was portrayed by Ray Liotta. 

At the time, the film was bombarded by critics, reviewed as an incoherent misfire and “Plot isn't intellectually challenging as much as it is confusing,” (Hartlaub 2007). 

Maybe it was the desperate want for a more mature sense of self, or maybe it was the lost sense from society that left me feeling incomplete, but after viewing Revolver for the first time I contemplated my current situation; homeless and an outcast from my family. 

Did I place myself into this world? Was it really, I, who was my own worst enemy? These thoughts plagued my mind as I felt a hovering presence over me. A shadow watching over me, I turned back to find a police officer looking down onto me.

“How’s it going son? Is everything alright?” He says to me, staring down at me and my book-bag at my feet.

            “Oh yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I reply, hoping that will quench his thirst for 

inquisition. 

            “Well what are you doing down here? Where are your parents?” The officer pressed on.

I quickly try to think of an answer besides ‘I’m homeless’, but “I’m waiting on my friend. He’s coming from work and I usually wait here to go home with him for the night” is what blurted out. 

The silence of the pause made my heart, thump, harder as he stared down at me. Damn, I thought.

            “Listen son, it’s almost midnight and your sitting in the lobby of private property. Now, if 

you don’t have any place to go I can take you over to the shelter. But, I can’t just have 

you roaming the streets and hanging around the lobby, here at night.” The officer, said. 

“My friend should be here soon, he gets off at eleven and works about an hour away. So,

I’ll be gone soon.” I tried convincing him, but he shook his head as he gestured for me to gather my belongings. 

I dragged my feet as I gathered my things and followed behind the officer as we approach his squad car. He placed his hand on the handle of the backdoor as he looked down at me, then my bag.

“Anything in there I should be worried about?” He asked. 

“No sir” I replied. 

He motioned his hand out to me as I tossed my bag into his palm, my heart beating, harder and harder as he unzipped the top of it. Jammed to the brim with spray cans, stencils, and an oxygen mask. 

“What is all this for?” said the officer, his brow turned and curled.

“It’s for my sister. I was supposed to bring her some art supplies tomorrow for her school project.” I blurted. 

He tried piercing through my lie with his glare and silence.

 “Let’s go, then” he said, handing my bag back. 

            “The only way to get smarter is by playing a smarter opponent.” (Fundamentals of Chess 

1883, Revolver). Metaphors and quotes rolled around my mind as I sat in the back of the squad car, glancing out of the window into the night sky, the phrase ‘experience is growth’ resonating within.  

“A bit young to be out on the streets this late.” said the officer. His words passing through one ear and right out the next as I continued to watch the passing street lights. I let the silence build suspense. 

“No choice when your mom or dad, want nothing to do with you.” I said.

“I’m sure that’s not the case” the officer replied, glaring at me through his rear-view mirror. 

Restraining myself as thoughts of my mother sending me away to live with my dad after stealing money from locals. Away from my friends and life after taking her digital camera to shoot graffiti videos with. Thoughts of my father, punching a whole in the wall after I spent my rent money on a night out and losing my job.

“No clue.” I replied.

            We pulled up to a small building that had been shut down for the night as a line of people dressed in rags and oversized coats, wrapped around the back of it.

“Here we are.” The officer said, turning back at me. He opened up the side door and 

walked me into the line, where we waited for what seemed like an eternity. 

Finally reaching the front of the line, we were greeted by two elderly men and an elderly woman, neatly sitting behind a white folding table that typically held paper plates and chip dip for the family reunion.

“Have you been here before?” asked the smaller man sitting in middle, his voice, high pitched and almost piercing.

“No.” I replied.

“Well just sign right here. Your name and birthdate and we’ll get you setup with a cot and in the morning, we’ll have a lunch for you.” The gentleman said, nodding to the police officer as the officer turned out towards the exit. 

I followed the gentleman down a dark hallway filled with lockers, children’s drawings and classrooms filled with tiny desks. We approached the end of the hall as the plaque on the wall read, ‘Gymnasium’.

Drawing closwer I could hear wheezing and coughing from within its doors which intensified as they swung open. 

Bodies. Bodies everywhere. I don’t know why seeing that many people in one room made me feel uncomfortable, but it left an uneasy feeling deep within me as covered my mouth face. 

“Your cots over there.” He replied, pointing to a mattress at the furthest end of the gym. 

I lied on the mattress with my hoody wrapped around me, face up, tranced by the rhythmic coughing as I was reminded of an ending quote from Revolver. 

“The only real enemy to have ever existed, is an internal one.” (The Road to Suicide, Pg.1, line 1). 

Lying there, staring up that hot, gym celing, mindfulness transpired within me that night as I learned of my own worst enemy. Myself. 

“Mindfulness is a protective factor for youth in any population (whether facing homelessness or not) because of its potential to alleviate emotional distress that all youth may face, including feelings of anger, anxiety, or depression.” (Viafora and Mathiesen and Unsworth 2014)