She appears frequently on Tennessee street in Vallejo, Callifornia sitting in a lawn folding chair, swaddled in layers of filthy, old clothing. Once positioned, she is usually motionless, with her chin on her chest and her eyes seemingly staring down toward her knees, although ascertaining if they are open or not would require closer proximity than I am willing to attempt. Sometimes she has an umbrella open against the sun's rays, but no matter how warm the weather, she is covered in warm, raggedy clothing. She has a push cart of some kind with some possessions in it, but I have never seen it move.
I have seen her as I drive by at least a dozen times. I have never seen a gesture, nor a purposeful movement from her. She is the most stationary street person I have ever observed. A visual artist could paint her carefully and deliberately en plein aire, no problem. I have never seen her seek money or any contact whatever from anyone. If you needed a study in voluntary human isolation, this is for you.
I have never seen anyone approach her. The sight of her makes it clear that no human contact is sought, desirable, or likely to be tolerated. I have no idea how long she has been a fixture at her various spots on Tennessee street. She is there so frequently that I doubt the police even try to move her along. It seems the rest of us in society have decided to leave her undisturbed and unapproached and untended.
I would like to know her underlying diagnosis, for surely there is one; some psychological issue with a great name, probably a syndrome or other. A psych student could probably accurately diagnose this one from across the street without hearing a word from her, which she would not utter, anyway. I wonder about her family. Has she made it so difficult for them that they have given up? She has to have some means of sustenance and maintenance. She must have to deal with normal bodily functions. There must be some things to which she must attend just to remain alive that require movement, effort, purpose. It's difficult to imagine that she makes the effort for such things, but she must, unobserved I imagine.
I wanted to provide an image file for this musing. I always try to do that. I considered taking my wife's digital camera and capturing her image from across the street. It just seems like such an invasion, though, even from that distance. This story needs a Gonzo journalist and a paparazzo. I am neither.
Sad Update
She no longer sits there. Reports state that she perished in a fire. Evidently, she had property, financial reserves, liquid assets, and a family in the area.