FROM THE NEWS DESK
The Houseathon on Saturday night proved to be a more profound, 24-hour meditation on homelessness than I expected.
I gained a new respect for anyone who does that every night and chooses to carry on living.
Even on a fine spring night, the wind was cold enough to claw through my layers of wool, my sleeping bag and my duvet.
Under the electric lights in an urban space, I kept waking, wondering what that noise was, until I got so desperate for sleep I stopped caring.
About 20 people slept rough for the night to raise money for Waiheke Community Housing Trust.
We talked a lot about how it must feel for women on the street to live among men who constantly pose a threat, and to be powerless, dependent on others for survival.
After the rough night, I was relieved to get back to the shoe box cottage I rent. It is a palace compared to a cardboard box.
Housing problems on Waiheke are already severe, so here’s hoping the trust gets enough support to make a difference.