I think I've discovered the shoe thief.

It seemed a guy was spied lurking around an empty house at the end of our short street, and I went by to talk to him this morning after spotting him just after dawn. He looked paranoid and hungry, so I brought him a bunch of bananas. It turned out he's a woman with some psychological problems who's squatting on the porch of this empty house, concealed as it his by heavy shrubbery.

I squatted down and talked to her for about ten minutes. It's hard to tell how old she is, but I guess she's about 30, and she behaves as if she's used to being pushed around. She was wearing a pair of shoes which look exactly like the ones I had which were stolen, and otherwise about all I learned is that her name is Denise, she is homeless, and she has a bicycle.

After talking to her, anger is impossible. My shoes, after all, are not all that important, and even if she is the thief, she's the one who is in danger, and now I'm worried about her instead. Her shirt is ripped wide open so that her breast and ribcage is exposed, and she seems almost totally defenseless. At least it's warm outside.

Otherwise, we live in a world which keeps people like Denise on the run. Under the circumstances, she seems disturbed to the extent that it would be difficult for her to hold a job, though of course, ten minutes isn't enough to properly judge her capabilities.

I don't know what else to do, but I do intend to go back to offer her a shirt and find out what else she might need such as a blanket. The bananas won't get her very far.