On a May afternoon, Teresa Stratton sat on her walker near a freeway in Portland, Oregon, talking about how much she wanted to live inside. She missed sleeping uninterrupted in a bed and having running water. When you live outside, "the dirt embeds in your skin," the 61-year-old said. "You have to pick it out, because it just doesn't come out anymore." Living inside would also mean no longer having her belongings repeatedly confiscated by crews the city hires to clear encampments. These encounters, commonly known as "sweeps," are the "biggest letdown in the world," she said, noting that she lost the ashes of her late husband to a sweep.