A few weeks ago, I left my job as a software engineer to go back to the U.S. to start my own small business.
But the only shelter I could find in the country was in my hometown of Bali Villa, a town in south-central Italy.
So I called Bali Villas shelter to get my belongings in the mail.
After getting in touch with Bali’s owner, I found out about the facility’s health and safety rules, and the fact that it was not even open to the public.
So in November, I packed up my bags and drove to Bali.
After three months of living in a tent in the town, I’m still homeless.
As I drove to the shelter, I started to feel anxious.
This place was full of people who were tired, hungry, and exhausted.
In addition, the shelter had been closed for months.
My luggage was already full of trash, so I had no idea how to get to my car.
I got a ride from a stranger who agreed to wait at the back of the shelter.
I arrived at the entrance, and I had to wait for a woman who had been waiting in the car since the last time I had left it.
“Welcome,” she said.
“I am waiting for you.”
She pointed to a large plastic box on the wall.
I opened the box, and within seconds, I was standing on a pile of clothes.
“You have a lot of clothes,” she explained.
She took a picture of me, which I then took to the manager of the Bali Village shelter.
She then handed me a small box of clothes for me to put in the box.
She asked me what kind of clothes I would like to wear.
I said, “I want to wear a dress, so please tell me the color and size.”
“Ok, well, I can do that for you,” she replied.
She handed me the dress and told me that it would cost me about 20 euros ($21.10).
I took it and put it on.
After a while, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
I saw two girls who were standing outside of the front door of the facility.
They took a look at the dress in the dresser and were confused.
“What is this?” they asked.
“It’s a dress,” I told them.
“A dress?”
They asked again.
I told both of them that I was from the U, Italy, and that I had come to Balis Villa for the first time.
They didn’t understand why I had brought the dress with me.
“Why do you bring it here?” they said.
They then looked at me and asked, “What are you doing here?”
I explained that I wanted to use the space of the space in the shelter to give clothing to homeless people.
“But you are here for the rest of your life?” they demanded.
I explained to them that there is no room in Balis Villas for clothes.
They looked at each other, confused.
The manager said, I will take care of it.
A week later, a man named Alberto came into the room and explained that he had brought clothes for homeless people from the shelter in Bali to the facility in the basement.
I was confused.
What kind of room was that?
He said that he would send them back to their original places.
A few days later, I received a phone call from the manager at the Balis Village shelter, telling me that there was no room for the clothes I had bought in the first place.
I asked if I could have a free room for one week.
“No, that is not possible,” she told me.
I also got a message from the hospital, telling my manager that they were not allowed to take me to the hospital.
The doctor in charge of the hospital told me, “You are not a man.
You have to stay at the shelter.”
I told him that I am not a homeless man and I am only homeless because I am a foreigner.
I have been here for more than three months.
At the end of that time, I decided that I would start my business as a solo entrepreneur.
After I finished working at the camp, I called the shelter manager and asked if he would be interested in opening a new facility for homeless families.
The shelter manager told me he would get back to me when I could come to him with the money he owed me.
The next day, I met Alberto at the front gate.
I went inside, and he gave me his phone number.
I called him and told him to call me at the facility if he could come.
I waited there for two hours.
“Is it possible to stay here until the end?”
Alberto asked me.
At that point, he gave a big smile and said, Yes. I
