Most paths I write about or photograph are in the deep woods, or along the rocky coast, places far from a city, or crowds. Today, I’m on a shaded concrete sidewalk. I’ve just passed a homeless man sitting on the ground, his back pressed against a brick building. He is surrounded by bulging plastic garbage bags, I assume, contain his possessions. I won’t catch up to the person ahead of me, but in a minute I’ll make eye contact with two strangers emerging from an alleyway. We nod, a defining moment of sorts. This is a city with its share of problems–homelessness is one of them–opportunities and people working for a sense of community among these many concrete paths. This is not a place that will accept the hate spewed by the far-right.