All at a height, and in such numbers, that makes it difficult if not impossible for me to take children into the store. When I ask the owner about this he smiles and claims that his English is not very good. I tell him that children of all races, all backgrounds deserve to be respected. He says nothing. The stores on and around the street are mostly of a kind.
Music blares out at such a rate that it even drowns out the noise of the cars on the road.
Surprisingly early one morning I pass a gang of ostensible street kids and one approaches me. I stare at him. For a long time. Finally he turns and walks away, back into a smear of pierced lips and noses, foul language and torn jeans. It's 2000 and little has changed.