Right now, there's two people in here. One's drawing and coloring at the computers, and chatting with us. The other's taking a pretest so we can see where he's at, and muttering the whole time.
Earlier today, a guy came in wearing a foot-long crucifix. (He always wears it; it stretches from his navel to his collar bone. It's the size of something you'd hang on the wall, but he has it on a yarn cord and around his neck.) He's in the area a lot, so I've seen him before, but he hadn't come in here before. He was somewhat surprised this place existed, some sort of sudden appearance (maybe like 9 1/2 King's Cross?). His crucifix has a stack of holy cards wedged behind the figure of Jesus, and it is highlighted in red with magic marker or something. He wandered around for a but, talking mostly to himself, and then left again.
Tony's something of an artist. His medium is just stuff he finds around here--paper, pencil, pen, markers. People ask him to draw something, so he does. I suppose that's what passes for commissioned art around here. And it's usually pretty good. (It's usually somewhat religious, too, with angels, or Christ crucified, and other elements (dragons!) woven in.) I think that there's a framed piece of his hanging on the wall here--probably one of the first decorations that was put up. I was talking with another volunteer (Boise just got its first hostel, and at $21/night, which is not a whole lot more than my monthly rent.) When the subject of rent came up, Tony said that he sleeps on a porch at somebody's house. Where is home, he was asked? "It's where I am. It's under my hat and on top of my shoes." That was such a neat way of describing his situation.