The opening of Zack Crockett’s Priceonomics blog post about one homeless veteran in San Francisco, how he fell into that mean existence and the intractability of such a predicament:

“Nathaniel only trusts two people: ‘Jesus, and a MUNI driver named Curtis.’ In the heart of the city, off homeless-dense Market Street, he bumbles along the brick wall of an alleyway, watching his shadow shuffle one step ahead. He has trouble making eye contact. As if bearing some great weight, he hunches, hiding his face beneath the brim of a colorful Rolling Stones cap. He’s 57 with poor eyesight. A new pair of reading glasses — his only Christmas gift this year —dangles from the loose neck of his t-shirt, and he occasionally pauses to make sure they’re still safe.

One of 7,000-10,000 homeless residents of San Francisco, Nathaniel, or ‘Nate the Great,’ as his mother once called him, is particularly worn down tonight, and at the end of his wits.

‘I’m tired, my feet hurt, my shoes got holes in them,’ he says without an iota of self-pity. ‘Thankfully, the holidays are over. It ain’t bad you know, but another year, and the same old thing. You haven’t moved along.’

He’s been roaming Market Street for 15 years. Like most homeless who are not sheltered in the city (about 50%), Nate subsists on what he makes panhandling throughout the day — usually $10-15 over the course of 15 hours, from 9 am to 12 am. There’s the occasional rare day where he’ll pull in $50. And then there was that one time he woke up with a coffee tin full of $300 in quarters. But he hasn’t seen a day like that for a long time. Today, he ‘retires early’ at 5 pm with four dollars and nineteen cents in his pocket.”

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“He needs your help desperately…we just don’t do that here”: