img033.jpg

On My Block - Chapter 1

I was born in a city famous for movie scenes, where it’s always loud and it seems like no one ever sleeps. The streets are mean but as the song says “If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere”. I know it as the mecca of dreams where many arrive with nothing more than a pocketful of them. New York is the birthplace of gypsy cabs, the baconeggandcheese (yes, all one word), and hip-hop.

Here you can find preachers praying to deities and dealers selling rock on the adjacent corner. The graffiti-filled trains became my passport to the different worlds within my city. The South Bronx, The Heights, Queens Bridge, Brownsville, Stapleton were all a hop of the turnstile away.

All of these places are as different as countries, but they share something. The people who call these neighborhoods home refer to them as “my block” with ownership and pride. The more I explored things like having Tres Golpes for breakfast, hanging out with backpackers, practicing my dun language, and going to a gallery opening in SoHo, I realized no matter where I was in the city, I was always On My Block.