While going over the bridge on my way home from work I can see a camp beneath the railroad trestle where a woman lives in an orange tent. There are several chairs around the tent and the door is usually open. Today there were two men and a dog around the tent, and the woman was having an argument with one of the men. It occurs to me that I'm one of only a handful of people that knows she's there because there are only a few people that walk/bike over that bridge each day and the side I ride home on is the less-popular side. I don't know why I mention this, but it's been on my mind for some reason.