Michael Richard Smith is a man without a fixed address, someone who leaves it to the wind and tide in Boston Harbor to help decide where he'll dream from night to night. With his possessions packed in a 14-foot canoe, the wiry, mustachioed man paddles to small offshore docks after dark to pitch his tent and sleep. He wears his brown locks long and tucks a pink silk rose into the brim of his canvas explorer hat. The 49-year-old's salty lifestyle is a means of survival, but Smith...
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