We Travel the Spaceways (Black Stars, #6)

by Victor LaValle

used to hurt my feelings long ago, but I’d been living on these streets for the better part of a decade. You spend enough time being actively ignored, and you learn to protect yourself. Stuff your feelings in one sock, slip them down around your left ankle, they fit as snug as an ankle monitor, and believe me, I know about such things.

Of course, I know the cans and bottles themselves aren’t important. They’re vessels. But aren’t we all?