Don’t cry

oh dear

I know
I know

give me your hand

now look me in the eye ‘cause there is no easy way to say this…..

Yes, you paid several hundred of thousands of dollars for a small house in Shaw and there are crackheads hanging out on your porch…

no, no, dear
don’t speak

Yes, your real estate agent lied to you. Said the area is cleaning up and that the liquor store was closing and the bums would follow. Yes. Lies. Maybe, one day the liquor store will go, but not tomorrow, maybe not next year. Then again, one day it might stock a really good wine. Right next to the Thunderbird.

You feel cheated, yes, I know.
All your friends back at the office don’t have to hear gunshots at night.

But listen to me.
no listen
You go back to work with your head held high and you proudly tell those weak lily livered suburban wusses that you live in da hood. You are strong and brave. They wouldn’t last 10 seconds walking down your street. Upon seeing one of Shaw’s surly looking teenagers they’d run with their tails between their legs crying for their mommies.

There did I see a smile?
A little itty bitty smile?


Now I want you to go home and make your plot your image of how Shaw should be.
From the alley to the sidewalk, make it yours, all yours, and let no one make you feel like you don’t belong.