joan.

The plastic bag lady has a name. Joan. The fact that she has a name is absolutely weird. Even more weird is that she actually talked to me yesterday. It was not a coherent conversation by any means-- something about a sailor, a social system and a fruit market (simultaneously)-- but regardless, she even said, "Take care" at the end of the conversation.

I also learned about her situation: she is married to a crack addict (and is likely addicted to crack herself, hence the bags that she chews, since crack rots your teeth out). Her husband does not treat her well and all, so she is hungry, so she steals of food from our church. Her brain is too fried to remember anything, and so she wanders around in a muddled daze. I tried to direct her to the nearest shelter (which is really close by) and she could comprehend anything I said.