The town sorts itself into neighborhoods spaces, into social classes, into languages and nationalities and colors, into parishes and school districts and shopping streets and block clubs and bus routes. And into hope and dreams, for that matter. It's a dreamers town, for all of its harshness. Some of it writhing, some waiting, some being reborn. It's passe, it's fresh, it's gone and it's coming, and as it sheds one skin it grows another. It's a town that never stops, a neighborhood for the world. The best place to put your finger on its pulse is on the streets where we live.



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