Homelessness from a distance is a social issue. Up close, it’s a human life crying out.
I was wandering around Old Town in Albuquerque the other day and noticed an almost hidden coffee shop I hadn’t seen before, called
@printboundpress .
I started chatting with the young lass behind the counter and learned it’s more than a coffee stop. They print and distribute zines, resource guides, and other DIY publications, and offer affordable, full-color laser printing to local artists and community organizations, including high-contrast graphic work. Naturally, I wanted to learn more.
On the counter was a street newspaper called
@TheBurqueBeat . I left a small donation and picked one up. It’s a community-run paper that gives people who are unhoused or housing insecure a place to tell their own stories, share resources, and be heard.
Inside was a first-person piece by a young man named Joseph, 23, from Albuquerque, who has been homeless on and off for several years. He writes about the cycle between the streets, police contact, jail, and release without support, and the fear that even seeking help can make things worse. He also reflects on how homelessness felt different in smaller New Mexico towns like Española and Santa Fe, where he experienced more support, compared to the harsher reality he’s faced in Albuquerque.
Two months separated “doing okay” from having nothing.
Reading it changed how I was thinking about the issue. From the comfort of warm beds and hot morning showers, it’s easy to speak in abstractions. Standing closer, you see the person, the fragility, and how thin the line really is between comfort and crisis.
This is why walking our streets and communities matters. You don’t find stuff like this through an algorithm. It requires slowing down, staying curious, and allowing a place to show you what it’s holding in the margins.
If you want to read Joseph’s full piece, I’m happy to share it. Just DM me.
