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A saint in the city, a ferocious poet-philosopher, Joshua (don't call him Josh) is beautiful with his piercing blue eyes and bohemian corn-colored hair pulled behind in a tail.
He talked as I walked with him down the block to get cigarettes. Then, sitting curled tight on a bench in a local restaurant, he told me about his struggle to survive on St. Mark's Place.
Joshua paints his words in the air with his hands and his head floats back and forth to the rhythm of his impassioned speech. He stutters as he grows excited- continually interrupting himself- and gets off on the energy of his own trips, tempting us to follow along. |
