Finding a Home for the Homeless

Hidden Baltimore

As the sun beams directly into Michael Satterfield’s brown eyes, he awakes. Disheveled, he reaches for the thin, cotton sheet that fell to the floor during his nights rest and carefully repositions it onto his cold body. Dressed in an old pair of jeans and a dirty flannel shirt, he shivers and blinks continuously until his eyes are fully opened. He rolls over and listens to the soda cans and cardboard McDonald containers that crush underneath him.

The sound of the garbage surrounding him is quickly overtaken by the noise of loud sirens and the early morning shuffle of commuting Baltimoreans on their way to work, traveling rapidly down 695. It is the middle of February and just 11 degrees outside. Michael rises and peers through the foggy window of his 2002 Toyota, the only roof he currently can afford to put over his head. Michael is homeless, but a…

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