I have always trusted my neighbors. You? In childhood, they became my family. At college, perhaps at 3am I had to knock on the ceiling or floor to quiet them down, but it was all love otherwise. At 18th & T, the gay guys chatted gardens and cuisine with me. In Pavia, they laughed with me over Mexico’s tendency to adopt new families. On East 2nd Street in Brooklyn, we cozied up on couches to watch films or talk art, took care of one another’s pets, bbq’d regularly and shared urban living secrets. In Senegal, well, there’s nothing you don’t share by proximity. Here at Boetticherstrasse, I’ve already had tea with several neighbors, am teaching some of their kids, and got taken on a full day excursion today. Note to self: when visiting a Cold War
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