My mother’s building is now
filled with the funk of Marijuana and the fungus of graffiti.
It’s due to the
homeless moved out of city shelters and into the neighborhood. Add a troubled
economy and the super storm to spell out ominous. And of course, Sesame Street
rocked with a sex scandal involving Elmo is another sign of The Apocalypse. How
am I to do my homework on creating a tour book for The South Bronx? As the song goes, I beg your
pardon but I never promised you a rose garden.
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