Today I went home for lunchtime to write in my journal. It has been SO hot here lately. On my way I came across a woman named Patsy. Patsy asked how my day was and I said it was ok. Because it was. And when I asked how she was doing she said she was very frustrated. Everytime she talks to someone who is white or hispanic, she says a police man approaches them just because she is a black woman. She kept saying it just wasn't right and she was doing the whole thing where she acts angry but is about to cry. I felt so bad and I kept saying that it wasn't right. But Patsy was not just any black woman. She was dressed in baggy mens clothes but was stick thin, with her elbows jutting out. She had scars that looked like cigarette burns all down her arm and she was very sweaty. She had a beer can in a brown bag and two cigarettes propped behind each ear. So she didn't look very with it. I guess I can see why cops would stop her. But she was just so hurt by that. I wish I had known what to say.