(yes, this is how we spell it in Australia as we speak British English. If you don’t like it, tough!) 🙂
My neighbourhood was a neighbourhood for misfits and weirdos.
I fitted in perfectly.
It was located on the edge of the city and I guess that was appropriate considering that most of us who lived there had always been on the fringes of society. Then again, it was also the kind of place where you could find artists, foreigners, the homeless and families, co-existing in a sort of peaceful or even blissful, kind of harmony. Known for its super cheap rent, tiny holes in the wall that served wonderfully delicious food and that old-world charm that could only be found in original areas of the city, it was a true gem in the crown of the area.
On any given day there was something happening and people came in droves to experience what life was like in the rougher, or perhaps dirtier, part of town. I didn’t think it was dirty, so much as gritty. I preferred living in a place that was true to itself and Yokogawa didn’t have any pretenses about what it was. You saw the real thing the moment you stepped off the train, bus or streetcar.
I hoped that one day I could do the same.