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As I walk through the neighborhood where I grew up, I can see the chain link fence. The fence that separates the States land from the rest of my neighborhood. But I can still remember the houses, trees, and people that used to live there before the government bought their home and tore everything down leaving nothing left but empty space. And has I continue on my walk a begin to remember the stray dogs and chickens that would wander the streets now they're gone too, replace by ducks and iguanas. And as I begin to approach the canal I begin to realize how much and how fast my neighborhood has changed but, there is one thing that hasn't changed. There is a neighborhood on the other side of the canal which is connected to my neighborhood through a small worn out bridge. But I don't know those people and they don't know me. Even though my neighborhood and theirs have been side by side through countless storms we have always been next to each other and we will always be. You would have thought that we were brothers but, I don't know those people and they don't know me. And has I begin to turn my back to that old canal filled with bones and broken freezers I begin to wonder if those stray dogs and chickens had perhaps crossed that old bridge. Perhaps they looking for some kind of promised land like the when Moses led his people across the Red Sea, I don't know. I don't know those people and they don't know me....