In My Neighborhood

In my neighborhood boys play soccer in the unpaved street in front of my house. They play at dusk, which is still hot, just less hot than the rest of the day. Little ones watch and try to play.

In my neighborhood an old man stands under the shade trees next to the community water pots for hours of the day. He seems mostly normal, greets us, often in English. However, he often stretches in the street and clearly holds a flexibility level higher than any average person. I don't know why he does this. Maybe because he can.

In my neighborhood, children walk down the street, hand in hand, arms around shoulders. They know everyone else on the street, know every little one there is to play with.

In my neighborhood there is the most honest butcher and vegetable vendor. He greets me as I walk by, asks after me when I'm sick and never cheats us. There's also the most gentle convenience store owner. He has a graceful way about him, always smiles, and takes care of my roommates and me.

In my neighborhood people walk down the street selling fruit, vegetables, eggs, bread and even cotton candy. It's very convenient.

In my neighborhood a bakery sells fantastic sweets, mostly pastry paper soaked in sugar water. Three dollars buys about a pound of these tasty treats.