Jesse, 45, gets tired of people judging him and other homeless individuals. He can see it in their eyes, but tries to not let it get to him. "They threw rocks at Jesus," he points out. And those people judging him, "they're gonna have to answer to St. Peter in the end, just like we are."  Jesse has PTSD from a life of struggle, fighting for stability. He was tired of his foster parents telling him what to do and trying to force him to read the Bible all the time. He moved out, but being homeless in New England gets rough when winter temperatures are 20 below. He lived in seven states before landing in San Diego, where he doesn't think the city does enough to help the homeless.

Jack, 40, grew up in New Mexico. His adoptive parents made sure he got to take college courses in high school, he was that smart. At age 19 he fell in love and married a man ten years older.  When Jack was accepted to Stanford Law School they moved to the Bay Area. He began working for a world class law firm after only two years of school. But the long hours kept him from his relationship, so he gave it all up; the two moved to Rancho Santa Fe and had parties. That's when he discovered his husband was meeting men online and having sex in public bathrooms. Jack learned he was HIV positive. His partner got abusive, would send him out on needless errands when drunk, so he ended up with DUIs and a stint in jail where he was raped by guards. Out on the streets, Jack is trying to put his life back together. He's studying neuropathy, wants to be a scientist, find secure housing and maybe learn to trust people again.

Matthew, aka Shadow, 31, has a winning smile and clear blue eyes. He sits cross-legged against a signal box with a cardboard sign folded so many times it’s about to split in half. At age 14 months, doctors told his mother he has Lennox-Gastaut Syndrome, a rare neurological disease. They told her he would be about 70% delayed in all things motor and cognitive. His mother was more concerned about her drug habit, and not getting too bruised by her husband, also an addict and alcoholic. He learned to swim, and that was the best time of his life, as a teenager, until his grandfather pulled him from the program. Later, after a turbulent marriage, jail and divorce, he is happy with his new girlfriend, an old high school flame, and together they hope to panhandle enough money to get a home together and start fresh.

Chase Langley, 41, knows he's lucky to be alive. It was 11 years ago, at the age of 29, he first was hit with the lymphoma cancer that killed his twin brother at the age of nine. Of six children, only he and his brother got the disease, but he's also had two nephews die of it. Born in Illinois to a rear admiral father and medical officer in the Air Force mother with a high security clearance, battles raged at home when it was clear Chase was gay. His father put him up for adoption and worked to throw gay men and women out of the Navy. Chase got a bus ticket to San Diego, learned to be an excellent pastry chef, and had a nice life living in North Park. Until he got sick. Medical bills made it impossible to afford to stay in a home. He's been on the street for two years now, when he's not in the hospital.

Scorpio, 53, moved to San Diego in 2003 when his two favorite football teams, the Raiders and Bucaneers, were playing in the Super Bowl at Qualcomm. A skilled worker in carpentry, roofing and cement, he figured the proposed residential high rises that were slated to go up around Petco Park would mean plenty of work to go around. Not so. He ended up in his car, doing a lot of crystal meth and spending time in jail here and in L.A. Having frown up in the Pacific Northwest skiing on snow in winter, lakes in the summer, he prefers being outdoors anyway, he said. He said most homeless are fat and lazy and need counseling. He also feels the city's politicians are taking money earmarked for homeless programs and putting it in their pockets because there are no public showers or bathrooms.

Tshakalisa, 34, emigrated from Zimbabwe as a college student, intent on medical school. With the help of friends and scholarships he earned a degree in biology and a secondary education in nursing. He worked at fast food restaurants until he had his degree and then worked in health clinics, in a jail clinic and with the healthcare company HCA as a surgical nurse. Until his visa ran out. He couldn't get help renewing the visa, so couldn't keep a job. Back home, war was threatening his family so he was granted asylum. But the stress took its toll on him. The stress and his dyslexia made taking medical exams difficult. He was worried about what his parents would think of him if he failed. He turned to drugs, did a few too many, and pulled a knife on someone. He went to jail. When he got out he fled that scene, coming to San Diego to start life over.

James Forristal, 40, grew up in Kansas City. His father had anger issues, and his mother wasn't around much. His sister moved in with her boyfriend, and he earned his GED so he could get a job and move out on his own. He did clerical work in a bank and a corporate office, but it became boring. So he moved to San Diego, where his family had spent a happy vacation. All was well until his uncle got cancer last year and James returned home to be with him through is passing. A sensitive, introverted individual, James is affected deeply by global crises like Fukushima and war refugees. Since returning to San Diego he has had stress issues, been beaten and was recently hospitalized with pneumonia. He turns to opiates for comfort but retains his quiet independence.

Art is Enrique's happy place. North County native Enrique Alonzo Cabrera, 53, migrated to the east coast when his parents disapproved of him being gay. He lived in Baltimore with his partner nearly a decade before missing the California sun. He moved to Hollywood, found a new partner, who survived longer than most with AIDS. Enrique soaked his sorrows in a bad decision, having sex with someone in a nightclub bathroom, who told the police Enrique had assaulted him. After three years in prison, seven on probation, Enrique keeps a low profile, watching his diet because he is insulin-dependent, painting paper roses in exchange for coffee and a combo meal, and sleeping in a secret spot away from the downtown homeless scene.