In my neighborhood, it is really loud and lively.
In the summer, it is fun to be there, with its humor and crowded streets. A lot of people walk around. Sometimes they also take the bus or ride bikes. There are a lot of students.
In my neighborhood, there is a community pool. It is really big and really deep. A lot of people go there to hang out. Many bring their kids.
My neighborhood is huge. Everywhere you go leads to something new. The buses help you get places. They run like water -- straight down.
On a street off Geneva Avenue that’s hidden by a sharp turn is my neighborhood. Many old, almost run-down family homes line the place. You can see lots of different types of cats and dogs there.
In my neighborhood, there are people from all over the world. Everyone speaks more than one language. If you take the time to listen, you can hear Spanish, Portuguese, Creole. I can always hear music from different parts of the world coming out of backyards and windows: reggae, religious pop, Spanish, and more.
Up the street there is a hill, and on top of that hill is a playground. On this hill all the children meet up to enjoy themselves and play soccer, baseball, basketball, and run track.
My neighborhood, by Warren Street, is friendly. There is laughter and music outside, people having a good time. There are cookouts in the housing development that everyone can go to. I have made a lot of friends. It’s a good place to live. Nice houses and fine people.
Still, you have to keep your guard up. You never know what will happen. There is some violence, petty and pointless. I smell weed, too.
Even though there can be problems some- times, we are all family inside.
I live by Morton Street, close to Blue Hill Avenue. There are kids always sitting on my friend’s stoop, doing nothing but making noise, never listening, and riding up and down on their bikes. Some kid got jumped twice.
My friend Melissa’s mother was yelling at the teens to get off the stairs.
I feel as though during the summer I can’t walk to her house because they are always there and staring and trying to talk to me. One wrong look that was misread could turn into a fght.
So we go to the nearby park, sit and play on the swings, and talk about life.
I live in Egleston Square, a really confusing, sick, weird neighborhood. But it feels -- and will always feel -- like home. I was taught never to forget where you come from.
I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff happen here, like drug addicts always starting problems at McDonald’s. I guess that’s just life.
I act normal and my days go by. No matter what happens here, it feels like everyone keeps their mouths shut, without one word. Except for the perverts, pedophiles, and more perverts.
Down Washington Street, you see a bunch of drunk men waiting for girls my age to just hit on or try and flirt with. I just ignore it. I keep my head up. I block it out with my headphones, listening to reggaeton and bachata.
Sometimes, serious problems with sexual harassment can occur. That’s when you see all the police reports. But I guess no one really seems to care. I mean, it’s always going on around here.