“She clutched her packages closer to her and hurried along the sidewalk, stepping around the beggars who sat on the curb. This section of Harding Avenue was lined with almost identical square, shabby white stucco buildings; she had to look carefully to remember which one was hers. A bus rumbled past, honking loudly as it wound its way past the rickshaws that crowded the street. She stopped, realizing she was at her destination. The squat, two-story structure overlooked a weedy, overgrown courtya...rd in which two families had set up tents. In New York, she thought, you could set up in any unoccupied building or space and hold on to it as long as no one took it away. Here, you paid for every inch of space, nothing was unoccupied, you couldn't walk out the door without handing money to somebody. The families in the tents were shelling out, and glad to get the space at all. She went in the front door and up the rickety, rotting stairs, careful not to trip on a loose piece of wood. She and Simon had a room on the second floor overlooking the street; they got all the heat and all the noise.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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