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This past weekend, I went back to my old hood, west side Detroit. I wish I could say that the city smell brought a nostalgia moment, but it didn't. To be quite frank, my old neighborhood is in disarray and a state of sorrow. I took a walk through the neighborhood and passed my childhood home and it brought me to tears. I know a few years ago, there were people squatting in it, but now it looks as if the earth has taken it over. There is not one window in the house. The front door is wide open. There are trees, plants and anything that lives in them, growing throughout "my" house.
This is the second time I've seen it in this state. The first time, I broke down and cried. I cried hard. I loved that house and now the memory that I have of it is that it's infested with silence and despair. I wish I could buy it and fix it back up, but the reality of it is that it would be broken into and more than likely vandalized again. So what's the point?
There is one occupied home on my old block. Just one.
I didn't take photos. It hurts too bad.
I love my city, but something has got to give!
Chanda