While Edmonton faces days of relentless rain and residents are being asked to limit showers, laundry, and water use because our wastewater system is overwhelmed, there are people in our city with no choice but to endure the storm every hour of every day. To most people this may look like discarded material. But beneath that tarp sleeps a young man. I have met him several times over the past months. Each encounter is much the same. He asks for a coffee or something to eat, often repeating the request several times in a loop while avoiding eye contact and looking toward the ground. Communication can be difficult. It is clear he faces challenges that go far beyond simply lacking housing. I have seen the aftermath of him being bullied and targeted by others. Because of that, he stays away from where most people experiencing homelessness gather. He keeps his distance from services, shelters, and crowds. The very places designed to help can sometimes feel unsafe to people who have been victimized, struggle with disabilities, or find social environments overwhelming. This is where homelessness becomes more complex than many people realize. Not everyone sleeping outside is there because they refuse help. Not everyone can easily navigate intake systems, phone calls, appointments, transportation, identification requirements, waitlists, or crowded shelters. Some people are living with developmental disabilities, mental health challenges, trauma, brain injuries, or conditions that make communication difficult. Some have been hurt so many times that trust becomes almost impossible. Building that trust takes time. Sometimes I see this young man several times in a week. Other times he disappears for days. Every encounter starts almost from the beginning again. There is no quick solution, no simple referral, and no magical phone number that suddenly fixes everything. There is only consistency, patience, and the willingness to keep showing up. As Edmonton debates homelessness, encampments, public safety, shelter capacity, and social services, I think about people like him. People who often don't fit neatly into any category. People who fall through cracks that exist between housing, healthcare, disability supports, mental health services, and community care. Today, while many of us are inconvenienced by the rain, this young man is trying to stay dry under a tarp. He is not a statistic. He is not a problem to be moved along. He is a human being and to have the opportunity to live a life where survival is not his full-time job. I will keep trying to build a relationship because meaningful help often begins long before a housing application or a case file. It begins with someone being seen. And in a city of nearly a million people, sometimes the most important thing we can do is refuse to look away