Forgotten Streets

A neighborhood, humbled and worn. Dozens of frame houses, once tidy but now haggard, press together with mere inches of privacy separating them. Back porches are filled with clutter, accumulations in the process of being either stored or discarded. The streets are littered with aluminum cans, empty boxes, random paper. Industrial buildings and a truck lot stand directly across the street, a far cry from the park view most might prefer, and freight trains rumble just overhead, outside the back door. The curbs are lined with ten-year-old parked cars, bumper to bumper; no room or budget for detached garages here.

An older couple squeezes sideways between two parked cars in the middle of the block, and crosses the street with barely a glance in either direction for traffic. Despite all the parked cars, there is little traffic to be concerned with. The only nearby traffic is the endless whirl of commuters on the elevated expressway just to the north, people travelling from green suburbs to downtown glass towers with little thought of what lies between.