All of them looking at us. He tells me not to make eye contact, but I surmised as much. The neighborhood was much different when he was growing up he says and that most of these folks are pretty new to the area. We pass a burned out shop, but then I see an 'open' sign. It's a bakery on the first floor of an abandoned apartment.
Nobody walks in Detroit.
In the distance, we can see the old grand central station, fourteen stories of broken windows. You can see straight through it, it's almost transparent. Several blocks from his old neighborhood, he shows me the gym where old boxing greats came from. We go and drink. We hit all the neighborhood bars, and in one, he tells me about how the Detroit police department paid for his college education.