Where They Live – Come With Me

I got caught peering down this long dark corridor from the sidewalk. He was sitting across the narrow street trying to sell some clothes. All he said was “come with me” or some such Spanish phrase. I followed him down the corridor until it opened up into a courtyard. He pointed to one of the doors at the top of the two sets of stairs and said “my house”. He wanted to show me where he lived, although we did not enter his dwelling.  I also saw where his neighbors lived below and beside him, behind the maze of walls and doors that defined their own living space.

I never got his name.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One thought on “Where They Live – Come With Me”

  1. Even the chair with the cloth pile is a sculpture of his truth.
    Always amazed at the cement and stucco structure, the way it stands the way it crumbles, yet it is swept neat.

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