Dhe misery begins shortly after the Richmond Bridge, one of the most beautiful of all Californian bridges, which, twisted like a forgotten string, spans almost nine kilometers across the water. It begins with the rubbish that suddenly lies left and right of the street, bulging garbage bags, countless bottles and drinking cups, car tires, and once a chair. Halfway the first dwellings, initially isolated, then more and more the closer you get to Berkeley: tents, tarpaulins, sheds and piles of rubbish on the small lawns at the freeway exits, in them people who sleep during the day and then at night when it matters to be vigilant.
The slum-like clusters of freeway entrances are nothing new to the area. The tents that pop up every evening in the middle of the city have also been known here for a long time. In recent months, however, misery has been encountered everywhere: in the no man’s land between the cities, in the suburbs, in the center of Oakland, Berkeley and San Francisco, where it is all the more noticeable as it has taken the place of normal hustle and bustle.