I want to introduce you to Keith. I met Keith at around 3 a.m. while wandering what was unanimously voted in my day there, by area residents, the worst part of Cleveland. The most poverty stricken parts of which could easily pass for the South Bronx circa ‘75.
Keith lives in an abandoned drive-through bank teller machine. And it was there that we sat drinking beers, talking music and life, love and death and watching the Olympics until dawn.
In the end I got fairly drunk, and chose to focus more on the moment than on its coverage. A specific detail I opted not to shoot was the candlelit shrine Keith had made to his daughter. I happened to meet Keith on the anniversary of her death.
Keith’s daughter was killed by a drunk driver a few years ago and from what I understand, Keith had a hard time recovering and was living on the streets until recently.
Like me, Keith has every reason to think this world is shit.
But Keith still leaves his door open at night. And as crazy as that may sound to you, I understand why.
People like Keith are the reason I do Sleep Never.
