I notice the Chelsea hat before I notice anything else. He wears it like a badge of identity — not just a football fan, but a fan through the ups and downs. It’s pulled low, but his eyes are sharp, watching me as I approach.
I explain the project — photographs of people who’ve been homeless and people who haven’t — and he smiles slightly. “I’m homeless now,” he says. “Been rough sleeping for a while.”
He talks about the realities of it — the cold, the places you learn to avoid, the few spots where you’re treated like a person and not a problem. Before this, he was a labourer. Lost work, fell behind, and like so many, found the ground disappearing beneath him.
When I raise the camera, he looks straight at me. No forced expression, just himself. The Chelsea badge sits squarely above his eyes, a reminder that even when you lose a lot, you still hold onto the things that make you who you are.
