I meet up with the homeless one

who seems on an odyssey to find his soul. After leaving St. Lukes, Jack must have gotten downtown somehow and was walking in front of the Westward Ho where he would meet a lot of people he knows. He called to me. I saw that he seemed sober and was cleaned up and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt apparently provided by St. Lukes. A cut across one side of his nose had been stitched. He had the remnants of a black eye and bruises. He asked me for money. I said, 'how much?' He said $1, so I gave it to him knowing he couldnot buy any booze with that. It was very hot yesterday. I hoped he might buy a bottle of water. You can dehydrate so fast here in this searing heat.
Well, thank goodness, it is much cooler today. But anyway I saw Jack a few minutes later at the Circle K but did not see what he bought. I said, well, it is fight for survival now, isn't it? But I said you look better. I can see into your eyes. He said yes, that he had not had anything to drink for 4 days. The last thing he said was, 'It will be all right. I have been in worse spots than this!" ???!!!
He did not seem to want any more from me and so I left him and remained somewhat in shock the rest of the afternoon to think he had transformed into another person from only days before. From dapper Jack he was now a homeless one, a state brought about of his own choosing.
I have no doubt that he had accumulated enough grievances that he could no longer stay, but almost like a soldier in war he was not going to talk about it if he could help it.
I have kept a profile on Jack ever since I met him as I have accumulated on Doc. I think it is important to try to figure out why even our brightest and most well endowed succumb to the ravages of alcohol and cannot seem to loosen themselves from the grip of the monster.
Night before last I was picking up almost a state of euphoria from him in those flying dreams, but last night he was very quiet and I hoped that did not mean he was fading fast. He seemed quite weak like he had not eaten very much at all for days.
I went out this morning and looked, but of course he was not lingering around the Circle K. Where he went I hope somebody knows.

P.S. Sketch of a homeless one done by Doc (Rick) during his precarious days on the street. He has that look that only a homeless artist could catch. It is called "My cup runneth over".