Irma is gone. I am sitting in a cool airport lounge after 4 days without power and 3 without running water. Every time a hurricane hits, you realize how fragile US cities really are. The neighborhood where I was staying was flooded as it was next to the Intercoastal Waterway. We lost power 24 hours before Irma even hit Miami and Internet went out quickly after the win gusts starting punching the city hard. Staying outside was almost impossible. And inside, you could feel the building shaking. As I was outside, I met Andre, a homeless man who was trying to find shelter. Hi face was tatted and you could see in his tired eyes that he had a long and complicated story. When I asked him why he hadn't gone to a shelter, he responded: "The police is not my family". I am wondering whether his family even knew where he was or whether this man had any ties outside his homeless word which seemed to comprise only a few blocks of Biscayne Boulevard. I saw him after the storm walking up and down Biscayne Boulevard. As people were looking for gas, cold water or hot food in powerless Miami, Andre was looking for a cigarette. He had made it past the storm. No it was all about facing the prospect of making it past another day on the streets of Miami.