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"Les Gars De L'Ile-Aux-Millions," Le Petit Journal. October 1, 1933. Page 7. ---- REPORTAGE PAR ALBERT DUC ---- Une bizarre population de parias habite près du pont Victoria - Ces hommes singuliers vivent pauvres, heureux, et indépendants - Une soirée parmi ces messieurs --- L'lle-aux-Millions n'est pas l'ile des millionnaires: En réalité, c'est le centre par excellence de la bohéme la plus complete, la plus farouche, is plus fiere et la plus ardemment libre; c'est tout un village dont la population, qui s'élève à environ cent vingt-cing ames, s'abrite sous des brooques aux matériaux cocassement disparates et choisis, piece par pièce, dans l'immense dépotoir situé à l'ouest du pont Victoria. A peu pres tout le monde, à coup sûr, a entendu parler de cet endroit, et beaucoup ont eu l'occasion de jeter un coup d'oeil sur ce coin bizarre: mais tres peu ont approché d'assez près res misérables huttes pour en avoir une juste idée ainsi que de leurs habitants.
Nous avons visité, un soir, l'Ile-aux Millions dont l'existence a été brutalement et brusquement rappelée au souvenir de la population, il a quelques semaines, par le suicide dramatique d'un malheureux resident de l'endroit.
Lentement, en compagnie d'un brave type que nous avions connu a T'hôpital lors d'un séjour que nous y fimes nous-même au printemps dernier, nous avons passé en revue les soixante bicoques (la soixante e unieme est en constructions situées à l'est du pont. Il faut marcher sur une distance d'au moins un mille avant de toucher les limites de cet étrange et fantastique refuge. Si quelques-unes de ces cabanes sont à peine suffisantes pour loger un homme et possèdent dea issues non fermées, il faut avouer que la majorité d'entre elles sont un abri parfalt contre les intempéries. De loin, on ne voit que l'extérieur laid et reposant de ces tanières; de prés, malgré leur indéniable cachet de pauvreté sordide, on est frappé des dispositions prises pour empêcher la pluie de pénétrer à l'intérieur ou le vent de jeter à terre les pièces multiples de ces constructions.
PARIAS, MAIS INDEPENDANTS! Parvenus à l'extrémité du village, nous nous sommes arrêtés, notre guide et nous reporter du "Petit Journal", près d'un groupe de trois bicoques et nous avons lié conversation avec quatre ou cing individus qui fumaient leur pipe à proximité de feux allumés pour chasser les maringouins d'automne, et qui regardaient placidement le soir de septembre descendre sur le fleuve. Sans détour, nous déclarâmes à nos interlocuteurs que nous étions là en qualité de journaliste curieux de voir comment vivaient les parias de l'Ile-aux-Millions.
- Nous vivons comme des sauvages, nous répondit aussitôt l'un d'eux, mais nous sommes indépendants et nous ne devons rien à qui que ce soit.
- Et n'allez pas zroire, continus un autre, que parce que nous sommes ici, nous sommes des propres à rien, des voyous, des types qui ne veulent pas travailler. Les sans-coeur ne viennent pas se båtir de "shacks" par tel: c'est trop d'ouvrage
Et il commença à m'expliquer comment ces constructions bizarres venaient à l'existence.
L'ART DE CONSTRUIRE - D'abord, fit-il, nous allons au dépotoir situé de l'autre côté dá l'ouest du pont. Là, nous cherchons les matériaux dont nous avons besoin, tôle et bois, puis nous les transportons à l'endroit choisi. Et remarques, dit-il orgueilleusement, que nous avons dû trainer notre planche et notre tôle sur plus de deux milles de distance pour venir jusqu'iel. Ensuite, nous nous amassons des clous rouillés puis nous bâtissons. Ordinairement, deux bons travailleurs terminent l'ouvrage dans une journée. Les vieux sièges d'auto, trouvés au dépotolr. toujours, font des lits parfaits. Quant aux poêles, nous prenons pour les fabriquer des tonneaux vides d'huile à moteur, nous y faisons des ouvertures et… nous chauffons.
INTERIEURS… MODERNES! On nous a fait voir quelques intérieurs. Franchement, ces gens-là sont infiniment plus confortables que les deux ou trois cents chômeurs qui passent la nuit à la montagne. La plupart des bicoques ferment hermétiquement et sont pavées avec du bois de la tôle, voire des retailles de carpettes. Le croira-t-on? Quelques-unes possèdent une galerie. D'autres sont surmontées de maisonnettes pour les oiseaux… vagabonds sans doute, et même, ne riez pas, l'une d'elles montre avec fierté une antenne de radio. (Voir vignettes au centre du "Petit Journal"). L'appareil est sans doute rudimentaire, mais cela ne l'empêche pas, grâce à un dispostiť spécial, de transmettre la musique qu'!! capte à l'habitation voisine! Il existe également, dans le village, un phonographe portatif.
COMMERCE ET CUISINE Nous demandons ensuite comment la nourriture est obtenue.
- Par tous les moyens possibles excepté le vol, me fut-il répondu. D'ailleurs, il arrive que de temps en temps nous travaillions quelques neures. Nous achetons alors notre viande et notre pain. Nous avons d'excellentes retailles de jamoon pour trois cents la livre. De plus nous faisons le tour des marchés el nous obtenons souvent des légumes de toutes sortes. Très peu vont manger aux refuges.
- Voyez, me dit l'un d'eux en me désignant une marmite sur un poêle installé dehors, c'est de la soupe au chou qu'il y a là-dedans. Voulez-vous y goûter?
- Nous y avons non seulement goûté, mais nous en avons mangé une pleine assiettée. Et, nous devons l'avouer, elle était excellente. Nous le dimes à notre hote. "Ah! fit-il avec conviction, ce n'est pas aux cantines que nous en aurions de pareilles!"
Pendant notre conversation, la noirceur était devenue complète.
Legendes:
L'INTERIEUR D'UNE HUTTE Voiçi l'intérieur d'une cabane construite avec des matériaux recueillis dans un dépotoir, soigneusement choisis, assemblés et clonés avee d'antiques boulons et clous de fer rouillé. Remarquez l'étagere, le phonographe sur lequel on joue "Les Gars de la Marine", la table rustique et le lit, au premier plan à gauche. Les hommes qui vivent la-dedans n'ont pas le sou, mais ils sont heureux. Notre reporter nous raconte ici leur singulière existence. (Photo Petit Journal)
UN "CHATEAU" STYLE "DEPRESSION 1933" "Malgré leur cachet de pauvreté sordide, nous dit notre reporter Albert Duc, on est frappé des dispositions prises pour empêcher la pluie de pénétrer à l'intérieur de ces "villas" de chômeurs de l'Ile-aux-Millions". Voir notre article ci-contre. (Photo "Petit Journal").
#montreal#canadian history#hoboes#hobo jungle#poverty knowledge#hobohemia#shantytown#down and out#vagrancy#poverty in montreal#great depression in canada#capitalism in crisis
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I don't like this place. It's turning everyone edgy and sad.
FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT
MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)
#undertale#deltarune#crossover#utdr#crossover comic#twin runes comic#twin runes au#my art#art#susie deltarune#chara#this will ignite the “chara did nothing wrong” vs “chara is a murder hobo” debate I just know it#fact is they gave up everything for their plan to succeed and asriel blew it#HOWEVER they were also forced to watch asriel die and they could do nothing about it#so what does a dead child do for who knows how many years all alone with no one else to talk to?#they rethink everthying that went wrong#guilt is a weird thing that lingers and festers in your mind#no matter how much you're actually at fault#I mean come on... they were an abused kid#all they wanted was to not hurt anymore and return the love they were given no matter the cost#but now they are CONVINCED it was their plan that kickstarted this whole mess#and it's eating at them#you can see it because they actually used contractions for once#i love subtle stuff like that#also hey#susie's feeling remorse for her whole “chara offed asriel” comment#the two are more alike than she thought and now she feels bad#out of all people she should know what it's like to be falsely accused
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redraw of this post, that’s canon
#my art#ace attorney#ace attorney 4#ace attorney klavier#apollo ace attorney#apollo justice#apollo justice trilogy#apollo x klavier#klapollo#klavier gavin#phoenix wright#beanix#hobo phoenix#apollo justice ace attorney
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and whether his eyes stay shut or he just stops caring enough
it feels the same
#lyrics from mover awayer by hobo johnson#anyway :) sorry#yes the hairstyles dont match with the ones in the actual scene i dont care#timkon#kon el#tim drake#conner kent#superboy#superman#batman#dc comics#my art#ladies. gentlemen. you have eaten well.
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There are many reasons it’s called the "Well of Sorrows". Solas knows it best but never wanted to tell you about it...
#dragon age#dragon age the veilguard#solas#well of sorrows#the truth is he didn't want you to drink his bathwater#i love my apostate hobo unwashed but...
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looking for someone on Tatooine
#commander cody#coday#cody day 2224#codywan#tatooine husbands#looking for obi-wan obviously DUH#ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR CODAY????#I've overdone myself and drawn THREE pieces for today like what????#I did not think I'd get them all done but somehow I did#I'll post them all during this day with little gaps in between#cody my beloved#I gotta say#I've never drawn as good looking rocks as I did here#the ones Cody's sitting on like#THEY AREN'T EVEN THAT GOOD but I suck at any type of background shit so I'm so happy they look decent hahaha#I also live for scavenger/ rebel/ hobo -outfit Cody#and also that he still keeps some parts of his armor#just to be able to kick ppl and droids if the need arises ofc#I love Cody so much I'm so ready for today#star wars#my arts
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Can u tell I love my daughter Trucy. Because I do
#marim's art#ace attorney#phoenix wright#apollo justice#pwaa#ajaa#trucy wright#ema skye#klavier gavin#kristoph gavin#aj has been a blast I love my weird daughter and her loud brother and his gnc bf#and cryptic hobo phoenix#and ema!!!#she’s back and shes sooooo cool#kristoph is v pretty too but he scares me so we’ll leave it at that#I love the Wrights so much btw they are. so weird. beloveds#right on time for Father’s Day too hell yea happy day phoenix
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Can u see it?
#undertale au#utmv#undertale multiverse#sans au#xtale cross#cross sans#this was my first thought when Jakei posted it on twt#watch him go#so proud of look like a hobo#but it makes all the sense if you know enough of Cross#his need of freedom#he refuses to be as XGaster wants him to be#The clothes are destroyed by his own decision#you know? and Xgaster can't have control over that#Cross decided something in his life#but this is just my opinion
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(unedited)¹ retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. [ one, two, three]
this was a stupid idea, a dangerous idea; one that could potentially get you hurt— you knew that, but the temperature was below freezing and you couldn't bear the thought of letting him walk to god knows where. you wouldn't allow that, not when you could offer help.
you came to a slow halt beside the man, rolling down the passenger side window and smiling softly, awkwardly. “hi! mind if i ask where you're headed?" he's taller than you assumed, standing at least a foot or two taller than you, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his all-black tee.
the fitted clothing accentuates his large frame, hinting at the strength that lies beneath. a mask covers his face, a skull painted onto the fabric, and a large military duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, weathered and worn.
he stops abruptly and gradually swivels his head to face you. his eyes are a striking shade of brown when they meet your gaze— they look……hollow, devoid of emotion. you smile once more and tilt your head, your palms slick with sweat against the steering wheel. “s’just, the temps gonna drop a bit more later in the night and i thought i’d give you a ride, so you don't freeze to death on your way.”
your attempt at a joke with the man falls short and you clear your throat and drum your thumbs softly, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. you jump when he finally speaks. his voice is like velvet dipped in honey. it's deep, rough, gravelly, and accented. you can't help but be taken aback for a moment, as a delightful warmth spreads through your body at the mere sound of it.
“y’r parents ever taugh’ you not ta talk t’strangers?”
you purse your lips and cluck your teeth, trailing behind him as he resumes his stride. sure, you should have driven off, gone back to your cozy apartment to indulge in a couple of movies, and drink yourself into a stupor but, you simply couldn't bring yourself to do so.
“my name’s _____, what’s yours?” he stops briefly and cranes his neck to the sky for a moment with a hint of irritation, before breathing out a heavy sigh; he seems hesitant, confused— and doubtful. then he turns to face you and your small fiat. “simon," he says softly. smiling you pull to a stop, “well, we’re not strangers anymore, simon.”
simon scoffs in slight amusement but slowly makes his way to you, when he reaches the passenger side window, you can clearly see a hint of distrust lingering in his eyes. it’s clear that he’s not accustomed to kindness from strangers. but you remain undeterred, your grin unwavering, as you lean over to open the door for him.
with a stiff nod of appreciation, he settles into the passenger seat, his worn-out bag settling between his thighs as he sinks into the comfort of the cushioned upholstery.
as you pull away from the curb, the man's eyes wander out the window, lost in thought. "so, where are you headed?" you ask gently, voice laced with genuine curiosity as you try to break the tension, your voice trembling slightly.
however, his response is nothing more than a cold, detached stare out the window. it’s as if he's not really there, as if his mind is lost in some distant place, far away from the reality of this moment. and yet, there's something captivating about his emptiness, something that draws you in despite the warning signs flashing in your mind.
“could be a killer.” simon voices, head slanting towards you; he looks comically large for your small fiat car and you can't help but smile. “are you?” he grunts but doesn't respond. the car speeds through the night, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thumping of your heart. he's like a puzzle waiting to be solved, a mystery begging to be unraveled; and you were curious.
“the nearest shelter,” he finally utters. “thats where i’m headed.” you hum softly and swallow thickly; this was a stupid idea, a dangerous idea; one that could potentially get you hurt, you knew that, but—
“stay with me tonight.”
#writers on tumblr#female writers#call of duty#cod mwii#writeblr#tf 141#cod links#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x f!reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley blurb#ghost blurb#cod mw3#cod mw#cod mw2#simon riley#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon x reader#deunmiu dessie#hobo simon#the blindside inspired#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley imagine#simon ghost fluff
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"Hoboes Have Gone to War Or to Essential Industry," Windsor Star. July 22, 1943. Page 5. --- RAILWAY POLICE NO LONGER ARE BOTHERED BY KNIGHTS OF THE ROAD ---- BY FRANCOISE MARTIN ---- Whatever route he took, the king of the road has gone off to fight for his freedom to loaf and follow the sun. Railway police in Windsor report they haven't seen a hobo "for years."
VANISHES FROM SIGHT After going where he pleased and doing what he pleased for a long long time, taking the odd rest in the odd jail when the winter months were not conducive to comfort, making his home in empty box cars, getting his food from "marked" houses, and cooking it in secluded spots equipped for all who came and went, the hobo disappeared from sight almost as soon as war broke out.
In years gone by, the hoboes travelled from coast to coast, with several on every train. "Deluxe" was an empty box car, with lumber cars being a poor second for the men. If necessary, they rode atop the cars and a last resort was "riding the rods."
AVOIDED RAIN Few of them ever travelled during wet weather, preferring the comfort of their "jungles." to the hazards of travel in inclement spells.Whether the kings of the road are with the army, navy or air force, or war workers, they're out there fighting. When peace comes again, they'll follow the sun again.In the meantime, the railway police have plenty of other jobs to do.
#windsor#hoboes#transients#knights of the road#riding the rails#war economy#total employment#railway police#canada during world war 2
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I just think the lawyers should kiss.
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my favorites
#creepy pasta#creepypasta#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta fandom#bloody painter#eyeless jack#hobo heart#i like blue#ignore how low quality EJ is I had to import his lineart from a different file#fizart
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This is when he realized he had fucked up I wasn't gonna post this until the end of the week but F it, happy valentines day! Inspired on a real life event
#ace attorney#miles edgeworth#phoenix wright#narumitsu#wrightworth#hobo phoenix#ace attorney strips#I kinda missed doing these lil strips they're fun#also happy birthday to me early post
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