James Belanger made camp, as he had most nights, under a slight overhang, his belongings pressed neatly between himself and a wall.
Belanger refers to himself as one of the “forced homeless,” people who want to come inside, who work to find a place, who try to jump through all of the hoops only to have someone yank one upward, tripping him at the last minute.
“In late January, I got a Section 8 voucher,” he began, and then saw the look on this reporter’s face.
“Everyone’s eyes light up like that,” Belanger said. “Like it’s gold.”