Sometimes I wish I knew more about my neighbors. Every day I walk up and down the streets around my apartment with little knowledge of who lives where and who does what and why and how and when and such.

I pass the same auto repair shop with the same middle aged guy who comes to work just before I leave. Sometimes he’s picking up a paper as I’m heading for the bus. I pass the line of Korean shops, the restaurants, the video store, the supermarket, the billiards place. I pass the Middle East Bakery. I pass the Sign place, a dry cleaner, Snelling Motors. I also pass the house with the deflated swimming pool in the front yard.

On the way home it’s often a different street. I pass two churches and so many crowded, overgrown yards. Today I saw a house tucked away in the space between two other houses. It looked smaller than the pigeon house we had back home, which was a glorified shed/garage. The tiny house was long and skinny, and I can’t imagine why it was built.

There’s another house on the corner with curved arches and stucco walls. It’s quaint. Rather odd looking next to the enormous, aluminum-paneled duplex next door, but still quaint.

So many places with so much history and people I know nothing about. One of these days.

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