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I drove my ten-year-old niece to a birthday party yesterday. The parents were as-yet-unknown, the address was in a maybe-maybe-not part of the city, and the instructions said, "Bring your rollerblades. Our house is an old church with red graffiti on the outside." My sister, accordingly, asked me to go in with my niece and make sure it was okay before leaving her off.
The street face of the building was all crumbling stucco, flaking paint, padlocks, a sagging porch, and, sure enough, red graffiti. ( But was it okay? Oh hell yeah. )
It was absolutely, bar none, the coolest living space I've ever seen. You could set a children's fantasy novel there.
In fact...
Hey...!
The street face of the building was all crumbling stucco, flaking paint, padlocks, a sagging porch, and, sure enough, red graffiti. ( But was it okay? Oh hell yeah. )
It was absolutely, bar none, the coolest living space I've ever seen. You could set a children's fantasy novel there.
In fact...
Hey...!