Feb 19, 2019

Dear class,

Thanks for a great timeless valentine class.

This weekend, we are reading chapter 4 of Wisdom sits in Places starting page 105 in your pdf. Although no response is necessary to this chapter, you should be prepared to talk about it once we discuss it in class. I might ask you of your favorite or preferred passage in this chapter or ask questions. Again, print it out, underline and annotate and bring your own print to class. You distract your classmates by sharing prints and phones are not allowed.

Your writing this week, will be a “place-making” as explained in Wisdom sits in places according to Western Apache culture. In this writing narrated in 1st person and present tense (as explained in the book) you will portray a location for us as it used to be and give us a sense of what’s happened there before. Please refer to our discussions in class today and stories like “Snake’s water” or “Shades of shit” (or other place-names stories) in the book to get a sense of what can be done.

You can also take a creative approach with this. Since you might not have access to information of your “ancestors”, you can use your memory to recount events or stories that have taken place during your lifetime, memories that you feel still linger in an actual location you know of, and recite it for us as you envision them in your mind’s eye. As a solid example: Has anyone experienced gentrification? This can be a way of telling us of a place that once has been, and what it is replaced with (Remember changes in landscape in your reading?). You can take any creative approach with this, but it would be nice if your writing doesn’t give class horror and nightmares, but if you have to, then probably you have to and it’s ok. In case you have a question about this prompt email me.

200-500 words/ Due 5pm Monday Feb 18

You can also attach a photo to this writing, to give us a backdrop for imagining your site. Add the photo to your comments with  “choose file” is below the comment box.

Just a heads up Melissa and Ramon are up for creative blog next week. Melissa and Ramon you may send me your prompt along with your photo before Tuesday 10pm.

Have a great weekend everyone.

 

38 Comments

  1. Open graves lies within a field

    This field yielded little corn. How one was able to survive off this land was a miracle, and yet people made it through day by day, year by year. The people tried to help each other out, yet were able to barely make it through the year themselves as their soil was well within the capacity to feed them. They were grateful that the land was able to provide for them.

    They performed ceremonies and rituals to keep the land happy, to honor nature and it’s coexistence with themselves. However, there was one person that spoke out against the land, convincing and telling the others the land was worthless, that they were not at fault and their neighbors were the one to blame. Yet, they never tried to tend to the crops, take care and respect the earth and those outside their land. They instead kept blaming everything outside their land for not giving them enough food, however, they themselves never tried to feed themselves and always relied on others, always having their neighbors feed them without consequence, always being lazy.

    In retaliation, the land answered back in full. The land never produced crops for these people as these people never tried to appease or tend to their crops. They were too lazy, too selfish to understand that in order to get respect they must give respect. Ultimately, they were not able to produce food for themselves and their families and starved to death.

    Now lies open graves within a field where no one dares to cover it up those that showed disrespect to the land, where the others are now cursed due to these people’s incompetencies and laziness. Their souls now escape from the open caskets to haunt others and possess them to rebel against the land, forever binding them to the same anger and thought as they once had.

  2. The Town of Sunset

    This place is part imagination but certainly exists, and all based on stories told over the weekend by my aunt and uncles, and my father who has an incredibly detailed memory of every place he’s ever visited. My father and his siblings grew up in a small town in rural Michigan during the late sixties and early seventies. I could never retell the stories like they did, and I’m so disappointed I didn’t record their conversations, but each memory they shared played out like a movie scene. Picture something like “A Christmas Story” or “The Sandlot”.

    The world has changed a lot since 1973, but the neighborhood of Sunset Avenue has a stronghold on the past. This short, dead-end street off the main road out of Clare seemed as if it were an entirely different town from the one it resides in. The town population fluctuated as families moved in for work, or out for the war. The mayor was a mature a twelve-year-old; the sheriff was a chubby seven-year-old. The parents played no role in the city’s politics (they were living in a world of their own that seemed boring and mundane). After school was when the world really began. The kids would creep quietly through the woods behind the school so that Joe Sherlow wouldn’t hear them and chase them with his bee-bee gun. During the winter, my grandfather who was a fireman would drive the huge fire truck up to a vacant lot and let the water out to create an ice rink. Tournaments were held between the neighboring subdivision (a town of its own) and always ended with a pile of young boys dressed in all their winter clothing fighting each other. During the summer, the girls would all sunbathe in their backyards after school but not without being taunted by the young boys. The boys stocked up on ammo when Mrs. Seiter threw her rotten tomatoes outside. They’d grab as many gross, moldy tomatoes they could and head up into the trees to launch them at the girls. My uncle still blames himself as the reason Judy Trucks is blind in one eye.
    [img]http://literatureandplaceglobal.qwriting.qc.cuny.edu/files/2019/02/a-christmas-story-movie-ss02.jpg[/img]

    1. This post painted so many pictures in my head. The way you wrote it so descriptive without using so much detail. i love how you say “Picture something like “A Christmas Story” or “The Sandlot”.” Because after that line, i enjoyed reading the rest, it really was like a movie that i enjoyed and would have loved to be a part of. The picture also gives a sense of fun, funny pose on a day that seemed to be having a good time with the snow.

    2. I love how you made use of imagery on your story. It was fun to read, I can sense a spark of joy, it almost makes me feel like if I was present at that time playing with that chubby sheriff. That character is my favorite I can almost picture a chubby sheriff in my head.

  3. It was once called is Blue Park. It may not be the official name but it’s what its loved ones call it. It was full of great intentions and hopes. It meant to be safe and beautiful and fun but could not always measure up. It used to be troubled, with rusting swings, and broken slides. With far too many small critters coming to visit and too few little people staying around. It used to be lined with rocks and stone dust and cigarette buds sprinkled in between. It used to sparkle from the suns reflection on broken glass bottles and scattered forgotten trash. It used to smell of old metal, rubber and days past. It used to be abandoned. With only street dwellers crowding the fields. It was once a purposefully kept secret, unkempt and undesirable.

    Its am now boastful and proud. This land has now become a place of fun, a place of family, a place of beauty. Children can now freely run about it, couples stroll by, strangers take it all in. It still have its old bones. The railroad tracks that still remain tell a story of a different time. Narrow piers smell of the east rivers catch. Pebbled walkways lead to hidden nooks and cozy spots. The pollution of light from across the river highlights the new shape and lines. Where once stood ruble and debris now are climbing creations and bouncy grounds. The man made fields are bountiful, taking the shapes of small hills and valleys. There is now new smells. Smells of green nature, savory foods, and rubber turf.

    As new and as shiny as it is, it’s once-was spirit still remains. It is still attached to its maritime past. The piers stretch out like fingers reaching towards the colorful city. The Long Island metal banner still continues to stand with confidence above the rest of it. The classic Cola sign still illuminating the night in red.
    Its name is now Hunters Point. But to those who remember most, it is Blue Park.
    [img]http://literatureandplaceglobal.qwriting.qc.cuny.edu/files/2019/02/20190218_105652.jpg[/img]

    1. I really enjoyed reading this comment as I have visited the Long Island City pier many times myself. I agree that it has definitely changed for the better over the years, inviting new faces to the renovated park. The way you described the sights of the park brought me back to the last time I was there during the warmer months. The Cola sign is definitely a classic and just like our memories of this park, it will forever live on.

    2. Hi Daniela,
      I really enjoyed your take on the long island city pier. Long island city has definitely received a huge makeover over the year, as it is now an up and coming spot. I have been a few times and the view of the city is breathtaking. I refer to this area as gantry park, which is interesting because a gantry is a bridge like construction equipment and the park is in the midst of city life.
      I learned some history about the pier which I didn’t know before and i really enjoyed that. I definitely look at the pier with a new set of eyes now.

    3. I like how you went into detail with the rocks and stone dust and mentioning the cigarette buds, it means you put in a lot of depth into Blue Park. You put in a lot of small details into the physical aspects of the park for example, when you mentioned the suns reflection on broken glass bottles. The details made it more visual and clear that I can almost picture it inside my head. Reading this inspired me to take advantage in the small details rather than paying attention to the bigger picture.

  4. The sweet aroma of eggs, pancakes, and waffles would always bring a smile onto every customer’s face. The natural sunlight coming through the windows to brighten up the place. The big windows next to each table, where you can see everyone in a fast pace on their way to work, school or any other destination that was very important. It was a place of peace.

    As a young girl, I would remember going to Mike’s Diner every Friday or Saturday with my grandmother because those were her days off. It was different from the fast food restaurants, the bodegas, and any other cuisines on the block. Sitting down without being rushed. Having conversations with someone right next to you waiting on your order. Building relationships with the managers and the waitresses. After going there for so long, you start to see the same familiar faces and remember every individual’s name. It was a getaway from the all the chaos and stress going on outside or at home. It was not completely decorated, but its simplicity and the environment of kind employees, made everyone fall in love.

    As a few years passed, this little diner, turned into a T-Mobile phone store. That moment where people actually sat down, spoke to each other, and built friendships has vanished into a place where we rely on our phones to initiate the conversations instead. What was a place of peace and relaxation, turned into a place where our obsession has now been buying the latest electronics. The quiet little girl who would eat there every weekend with her grandmother and those who still live in the community, will always reminisce about Mike’s Diner.

  5. The Block called Norton
    It was a regular street in a small suburban town, where all of us would gather together and play tag, basketball or man-hunt. It used to be a block where most of us teen age kids would joke around with each other, laugh together and have a good ol’ time. Technology wasn’t really around during the time, some of us had the latest phones and then some of us like me didn’t even have a phone yet. We would play until the sun until our moms would yell out “dinner!”, that was the cue it was time to go inside. Summer days, was a time where we would play until we were red in the face and worn out, we would hear the ice cream truck come down the block like music to our ears. Those were the days when time didn’t exist, we didn’t pay attention to time. We didn’t need cellphones to call and see what everyone was up to we did it the old fashioned way, knocking on the front door and if there wasn’t an answer then that meant they were out with their family. As the years flew by, some of us had to move and it happened to be one of my closest friends, she was moving to another town. Goodbyes weren’t always easy, all I know is the memories that I’ve experienced living on Norton will always stay in my mind.

    1. I enjoyed how you captured that sense of freedom summertime had as a kid. Freed from time, responsibilities and for some freedom from reality. Summers as a kid also created a sorta mental time capsule of who you were and who your friends were at that time. We look back on them fondly because we find that summertimes can be the start of something new like going to a new school or bittersweet. Like the summer you know will have before friends move away.

  6. Now the water is up to the reeds, and there is no sand left on the beach. There are plastic bags flowing in the wind, and a seagull with a plastic ring around its neck from soda cans. The water was not always this murky, and this dirty barren space was a source of prosperity. In Clear Water with Purple Oysters, many people traveled just to see this bay that is taken for granted now. Trade and oysters are now not needed to survive here any longer.

    There is a purple sky early in the morning casting a violet filter over the beach, making the oysters’ colors even brighter. Look over there! Now about four families are coming and down the serene path down to the sand. It looks like some others are across the bay in the canoes fishing. The sun is rising quickly, so a group of adults settled on a spot, then work quickly choosing the ripened oysters. The younger teenagers don’t mind washing them in the cold water even though their hands are turning shades of pink and red. They smile as the blueish purple color reflects off the water and sun. A grandma is down the beach, holding her grandson’s hand, both laughing as he picks his knees up really high trying to run! A couple of young kids, good kids, are up to no good. They’re searching down the creek to find the moody snapping turtle that resides there. Ah, and one of the three dogs are also up to no good catching ticks in the reeds, hoping to find a dead crab or even better, bunker. This is a fun place, a happy place.

    The oysters keep the village alive. Since there are so many, this means the sea is happy with the people this year. Though they are working very hard, this doesn’t seem like work. This is how working is supposed to be, maybe. Daydreaming of what they will do with their abundance, a man runs over with a huge striped bass! He’s beaming on his new wife’s first ever catch, and a twelve pounder at best! This is a blessing! The bass normally still have pinched bellies from winter.

    1. melissahernandez,
      I feel like you painted this picture very well. Although you talked about the now polluted beach, the short story you told of the people who visited this place made me warm. This all reminded me of the class reading, “Juniper Tree Stands Alone” about how once, people relied on the land for their survival and how a place, once very much valued by people, can easily be taken forgotten and taken for granted. You also did a great job of writing in present time but still telling a story of the past.

    2. This is beautiful. My heart broke in the beginning because I can think of too many places like this. As an environmental science student I am usually quick to notice the plastic that pollutes a place, or our negative influence on nature, before I notice it’s beauty. But these places were (and sometimes still are) very appreciated!

  7. Seashells & sand, beloved by the blue sea

    Sadly, the sea has overpowered the sand and seashells. People no longer come to the shores to relish in the beauty of the blue sea and to show their appreciation of the shore. There was time that the people marveled at the sight of the sea as they watched their families; their children play on the sand. The people of the land showed their gratitude for this natural beauty by celebrating it under the sun on the sand, in their beach chairs, playing volleyball, building sand castles. The ships and jet skies, kayaks danced on the big blue sea in celebration and appreciation of Mother Nature’s beauty. Our families’ barbequed and shared food and stories and played music.

    The seashells were symbols of beauty, love & memories. They are magical, they kept the secrets of our past, and they gave us luck and inspiration for the future. Each seashell has a beautiful story to tell. You could hear the songs of the ocean when pressing the seashells to our ears. They were whispers of advice. Our parents told us to never take our land and it’s beauty for granted, to live an unselfish life and always look after each other, and protect our land. God blessed us with a sight of beauty, a place to celebrate and rejoice as one and a place to hold our memories and secrets.

    As the years passed natural disasters happened. No one truly knows why. What set the disasters in motion? Could the sea be upset with its people? The blue sea became angry and turned into a hurricane. The blue sea’s color began to darken and the sand & seashells began to disappear. We were no longer privileged to share the sand and seashells with the sea. The Blue Sea became dark and gloomy, the sand and seashells all disappeared along with all the memories and secrets that we once shared.

    Our people have come together to fix and rebuild and hopefully put the pieces back together and one day have the beautiful beach our ancestors once had. We will never take our beautiful beach for granted again.
    [img]http://literatureandplaceglobal.qwriting.qc.cuny.edu/files/2019/02/pr2.jpg[/img]

  8. Then Vs. Now
    Years ago in a rural land there used to be a lively neighborhood. People would interact with others outside and have a blast of a time. There was a huge vacant lot where many would gather to dance and sing. For others it used to be a place where one could be at peace and take a moment to look at nature. People had so much to do here without looking at the time to see how much one has spent here. This was the time without phones and gadgets where one didn’t have so much technology at their fingertips. Many had no idea what advances at technology would eventually lead this place to its doom. As years went on this place lost its beauty with no one going near it only to walk right past it as if it had no meaning to them. Everyone got lost in their own world and paid no attention to the greatness of the nature’s land that was being offered. People were in their own world which built up hate for each other due to their new gadgets. There was no greetings to one another. What was left was misery and an abandoned land that once was the talk of the town.


  9. Palace of Purity upon the Winding Path

    It happened at “Palace of Purity upon the Winding Path.” The people first inhabited the land when it was the first structure standing in miles and miles of vegetated fields. The people walked the dirt roads in search of a place to settle and live in harmony with the earth. They walked upon the path and were met with a shadow cast by a tall, vibrant birch. A sign of vitality which the soil birthed it’s beauty and would garner livelihood for generations to come. The birch tree was the first which was seen by those who stumbled upon the land. This land became their abode, protecting them from the elements and supporting the clan as the days progressed. There was an elder, who spoke of conscience and empathy to each and every person in the clan. Though the elder helped to guide those within the clan, his support system was short-lived as he fell ill. In place of solidarity, animosity was birthed as the clan was divided upon who’s wrongdoings led the elder to fall ill. The fighting amongst the clan benefited no one and became the final nail in the coffin for the elder. Their elder, he who held the true connection to the land and unified the clan amongst one common goal, had perished and with his demise produced the disunite of the clan. The land began to wither and the once pure and beautiful birch tree which acted as a sign for life had begun to decay. This land was abandoned by the once unified clan, leaving those within in the clan to permanently lose touch with the land that sustained them. A wedge was driven between them which could not be removed.

    [img]http://literatureandplaceglobal.qwriting.qc.cuny.edu/files/2019/02/PalaceofPurity.JPG[/img]

  10. Sun Beams Speak to the Thin Red House

    Up the front stairs into the thin red house the sun peeks through the windows of the sunroom. The beams of light reveal the subtle falling of dust as we walk through the front door. The house is old but full of rich memories, memories of life, family and traditions. In the living room is a bookshelf that covers the entire wall, full of encyclopedias and collections, “Julius Caesar”, “A Tale of Two Cities”, looking like a painting on a wall. The 70s style kitchen still had working appliances and a black rotary phone hanging on the wall. On the floor a little girl with her twin brother plays on the floor with a plastic toy map and little race cars. Full of imagination and not a stress or care in the world
    The thin red house does not look this way anymore, in fact it is almost unrecognizable. The thin red house was home to my grandparents and to my dad who now rest easy. The thin red house hasn’t spoken secrets from the past to the little girl for quite some time as life has taken a new course. The thin red house still lets the sun beam through the sunroom as dust dances throughout the air the house that once had so much life is vacant. Patiently waiting for us to be ready to memories once again.

    1. I really admire the place-name you chosen for your grand-parent’s home. The imagery for Sun beams Speak to the Thin Red House is beautiful. I love the color palette of soft hues of red and yellow. My favorite part was when you talked about the wall of encyclopedias, it very much reminds me of my family home and was fun to imagine. The open ending is fun, I love how even though the house is vacant, it has a lot more to give. Thank you for sharing!

  11. Growing up in an Italian family there are name things people leave unsaid. They relish in the past and bring their superstitions to their family. I remember a place in my childhood that I only visited twice. It left me with shivers and wanting to know more. I must of been at least 5 or 6 years old. My dad put us in the car and we were happy singing and then it happened. We arrived on this block. It was gloomy and dark. All the houses looked the same. I had an eerie feeling. I said nothing. The front of the house had the long steps that lead to the front door. We followed my dad down this long dark alleyway. The only light was from the sun. The bricks were dark and old. We came to a gate it was old and had a big padlock on it. Dad opened it and we went inside. I could hear the dog barking and growling on the side. As I walked into the yard their were two gardens. Down the middle was an old path that led to a old broken down shack. I remember thinking that there must be animals in there. Dad went to the shack I followed him. When he opened the door he told me to be careful. My eyes opened wide. I couldn’t believe the things that were in there. It was like a treasure chest. There were my grandfathers tools and jars filled with nails, screws and money. I couldn’t wait to explore it. Dad told me to stay put he had to go the car. All of a sudden I heard this scream and this woman was coming at me with a broom. I closed the door but she continued to come at me. It was my grandmother. She didn’t know we were there. She told me the history of my grandfather and it meant a lot to me.

  12. Hidden Door by Palm Tree.

    My family arrived at this house when I was young. We had moved often before and this place did not seem different than the others. It was a row house, tall with tan and brown paint. On each side were our neighbors with the same looking houses. What made our place different from the others was the palm tree that stood in front of our door hiding it from view.

    We made the house our home over time. On the outside, our home might look the same as the others. But we made the inside our own. Walls were taken down, floors were redone, plumbing moved and placed in other corners. The changes were not just physical but we felt connected to this place. A connection that I had not felt to other places we called home in the past.

    Year after year out home would shelter us from storms and hot sun. That palm tee that concealed our door when we first arrived, now stood tall over the house. But when the recession hit, my family knew we could longer stay. We left the house hoping to return one day but the day came that we had to sell it.

    Years would pass before I would see the house again. When I returned found that the homes were no longer tan and brown but pink. The new color could not hide the lack of maintenance and care. The neighborhood was quiet and many homes stood empty. Including my old home.

    Peering through the windows I could see that the house was in need of cleaning and repair. Stepping back to view the place from the road I wondered why this place felt wrong. After growing tall and strong over the home that palm tree was gone. Cut down maybe by a storm? Or maybe the people who lived here after us took it down? Or just like all things in nature old age took it. Now from the road, the house blends in with the others waiting for a second life.

    1. I find this to be a true contemplation of how life is usually represented. When one judges a book by it’s cover they fail to try to fix what’s on the inside for themselves and always try to be socially responsible. As this piece has shown, the apartment was dull on the outside, and yet perfecting and changing what’s on the inside is what’s important. Once it was repainted on the outside so the landlord can make it seem as though it’s an amazing place to live, the inside was neglected and everything was left in tatters. Due to the negligence of these landlords, people who have seen the inside will refuse to want to live there because they see the truth behind the design of the building.

  13. White yellowish wall surround me as I read the book in my hands. The chair I sit in,with its black round wheel squeak as I move around in it from side to side. The long rectangle desk sits up against the wall stacked with paper and a new of color pencils .I should probably clean that up. A lonely room but warm it’s hot today as I wait impatiently for the time to pass. No clock in that room,can’t tell what time it is but I’m hungry and tired of reading. My neck hurts from having my neck down remembering my father’s’ word telling to sit straight. I hear his voice, he talks to a client about the latest phone and everything it has. I walk past the front class desk that display the flip phones. He calls my name have you finished reading he asks. I shake my head and say no says ‘ok’. I walk back to the room to resume my coloring i have grown tired on reading. Time pass and i leave the lonely room again. This time he is fixing a phone , calls me over. Shows me the clear red phone he is working on he smiles. ‘We about to leave me says pack your stuff put’. As I walk back to the lonely room my father smile at me and tells me mom has call she is on her way home. In that lonely room which I go to everyday with a book in hand on those summer days.

  14. “Juni”

    After a hot long day of playing pick up games we would sit around afterwards and listen to the old timers tell stories of how bad Juni used to be. We would sit around trying not to cramp up and just listen till it got dark. Juni was once just a patch of dirt and rocks. It was isolated and always empty. When there was wind you could hear the dirt flowing and the soft crunching noise that would be made as you walked around the play ground. Looking around you’d see an endless trail of trees and untouched benches. You could hear the birds sing and although it wasn’t beautiful, it was peaceful. Every afternoon, groups of people would show up and use the playground to play soccer. It was not the most ideal soccer field but they made nothing into something. As you ran around chasing the ball and doing tricks the dirt would swish by and before you knew it, your legs and socks would be covered in dirt.
    It’s hard to believe the conditions Juni was once in. I admire the dedication these people had to play in what I believe wasn’t good enough to play on.
    Now we all have the privilege of having actual nets and turf to play on. With a track surrounding the field with stands to watch from too. Theres days where you can’t even get on the field let alone start a game. Its amazing to see how no matter what conditions the amazing sport makes people come together to share the special moments with one another.

    1. Hi Kevin- Your post brought so many vivid images to my mind. It reminded me so much of my childhood. My friends and I lived on a block with huge buildings, in Brooklyn. Unlike houses on long island we did not have huge backyards to play. We would make the best of playing handball, football and manhunt on the busy blocks of Brooklyn. Just being together and playing games we loved was all that mattered. I can totally relate to your post in so many ways. Thank you for sharing and taking my mind back to a very fun and special time in my childhood.

  15. An angels view.
    Have you ever wonder how it feels to be lost in time?. How it feels to see the rust on a 1956 Cadillac with a light yellow color, with no tires and itself just laying down in a
    grassland with is front pointing to a Colossus that spits fire. I wonder if the car lost its engine on its journey or if it gave up on its purpose. Now it can only see jeeps and land rovers passing through the town, up to a hill it never reached. Before I went to the hill I passed a church. It’s a big one, covering most of the Colossus with its back. It’s a way to let people ignore the giant. They fear the giant but as long as that church is there, they feel at peace. There is no way to ignore the church, it attracts you to it with big flashy lights, golden structures, and choirs of old nuns singing “Ave Maria”. It is just like a magician will do to keep you looking at its left hand while the trick happens at its right hand. I think it’s wrong to disrespect the colossus, it itself is a force of nature, a power of destruction and creation together. A few people respect this land now, only those who haven’t been influenced by the Spanish church and its stories. They know the power of the giant and they try to take care of what its left from the flora and fauna surrounding its skirt. For this place time is nonexistent, reaching the hill feels like time hasn’t moved an inch, hours could have passed through but the sky will be as bright as ever and the wind will knock you down as if angels would have slapped your checks. A calm breeze and the grass will comfort you like a mother comforting a newborn child, and the view is so beautiful that it makes you wonder if this is what angels see when they are flying around the skies.

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  16. When I am home all alone, I can’t help to stop and question the past of the building in which I’ve lived in for my entire life. The first person I turn to for answers is my mother. Not only has she lived in this neighborhood for her entire life but has lived in this building for over 30 years. She tells me stories how the apartment we live in now was a 2 bedroom on the blueprint but then made into 3 to fit the needs of the original owner. There was originally a park in the back of my building. All that’s left of it now are a couple of benches, covered in vines, facing the train tracks. She tells me stories of grouchy, old doormen that worked in the lobby, which is probably the reason why we no longer have one. The one and only place I know as home marks 60 years old this year. That makes 60 years of residents moving in and out, renovating and adding to the cracks in the ceilings. While these aren’t memories I can recount for, its interesting to hear the history behind The Warner House building. Although the only drastic changes I’ve seen done seem minor to me now, I’m sure one day it will be my time to share my distant memories of a place I once called home.


    1. “Blue Basin”
      The blue river was once a calm flat river. Been around for a long period of time. The town people take care of the river and the river take care of the people. The town individuals used to go in it ordinarily to get nourishment, for example, fishing, crops, they even beverage the water and shower in the water. They utilized the water for a wide range of stuffs. They ensure the water remain clean at unsurpassed.

      To show respect and celebrate the water. The town people who appreciate the water will all go by the water every weekends to wash clothes, bathing, they even bring their pots, ingredients and sticks to put in between rocks to cook by the water. Enjoying the beautiful view and sun while eating and bathing. Their kids will be playing running around and splashing in the water with laughter and so much joy. When it’s time to go home later on when the sun is setting nobody wants to go home. They all wish they can stay by the water specially the kids.

      There’s likewise the individuals who abuse, abuse and misuse the water for precedents some will utilize the water to do terrible, they’ll do appalling things in the water, for example, crapping. They will toss rubbish in the water and when the individuals who welcome the water will attempt to persuade them to stop these individuals who’s mishandling the water will start a fight and state it’s simply water there’s nothing unique about it.

      Many years later after all the abuse, abuse and misuse, the water begin to winding up more blue than it is, so blue that you can’t see the base. the water began to get further and more profound that individuals terrified to go in it. The water currently will flooding each time it downpours. Big rocks fall in different part of the water and turn it to differentshape. Trees start to grow on those rocks and those rocks also become slippery. Individuals who go in the water and don’t have a clue how to swim will suffocate. The entire town begin to discuss how risky the ” blue basin” is. Everyone frightened to go in the water. Presently they all adage there’s beast in the water.

  17. There were many cottage houses in that once before village. These cottage houses were filled with collections unique to each house. One house had a collection of wooden figurines of dogs. Another house filled with a collection of nutcrackers. Each house had a story. Their river had fishes and turtles. Every morning everyone would walk by that river that was filled with fishes, turtles and Tulips, Orchids and Lilys. Everyone reunited at the same spot by the same tree often to make sure everyone had what they needed to make a living.
    Were there were once families living in those cottage houses, there was now skyscrapers. Additionally, there was now post offices, churches, temples, police stations and department stores. The same river was now barricaded, there was no longer grass surrounding it nor flowers, there was now just sidewalks by concrete. Even though there was still fishes, there were pieces of plastics floating, the plastic bottles floated alongside the straw. Groups of people were no longer from just one origin. There was brown, black and blonde hair. Blue eyed, brown eyed and green eyed. Those people lived for themselves and worked for themselves to make sure their family had what was needed. This city that was once a village has physically changed.

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