Broken Bodies. Foggy Souls. Women pull a heavy medieval door.

Men come here too. Seeking some rest. Some human kindness.

Sheltered from the street.

Side by side.

They can finally be themselves.

On the look-out no more.

Marie-Claude is taking care of herself.

A couple shares a meal.

Friends exorcise their Blues.

Encouraging people with Bob Marley lyrics:

“Stir it up. Little darlin’. Stir it up. Come on, baby!”

“They called me.

I’m gonna do the dishes.”

Ben got a job interview.

After her shower.

Vicky takes some alone time.

In the unisex collective bathroom.

“It feels good.”

Lionel came for a medicinal massage.

“The Street’s SPA”

He gets his problems out of his chest.

“Someone stole my nail clipper.

My toenails turn black.

They fall and grow back.”

He jokes around.

With a toothless voice.

He laughs.

While the others fall asleep.

“It relaxes me.”

“I came for the chicken soup.

It’s the best one.

Servings are not that big.

But, I come here because it’s the best.”

“I am not here for the meal.

My belly is already full.

I am just here to chill out.”

They came for friendship too.

“Look, my friend is here.”

“It’s noon.

St. Michael’s Mission is closing.

You have to get out.”





