Darkness surrendered to the Saturday dawn, unveiling a canvas of clear blue sky illuminated by the heatless light of a harshly cold winter morning. It was January in Boston. I backed my car into an empty parking space on Paul Sullivan Way, in the shadows of the Pine Street Inn homeless shelter. The digital clock on the dashboard read 6:58 AM. Across the street, a blanketed man hunkered down in an abandoned doorway. Skirting patches of ice on a broken sidewalk, I rounded the corner onto Harrison Avenue and entered the shelter. The smell of alcohol and rotten feet hit my nose. Inside the shelter's medical clinic, a seasoned nurse was already tending to a crowd of patients.
Baggett TP. The Proud Paratrooper. JAMA. 2013;309(20):2109–2110. doi:10.1001/jama.2013.3044
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