lost angels: skid row is my home-dir. thomas napper

“i don’t think i will ever live anywhere else.”

i’ve been translating an article on favelas in portuguese on duolingo. the irony is, i’m not sure if the word favela translates at all. i’ve stumbled through the article with “slum” or “shantytown”-i didn’t use that one, but i didn’t mark it as incorrect when i saw other peoples’ translations either.

what does translate, is the existence of makeshift shelter around the world because humans need shelter. but what if your shelter choices are places that exacerbate your feelings of insecurity? if you live in a shelter or an institution, or in prison? what is a home and what is our responsibility to honour it? is it a one-way relationship? do we share our home with others? how do we share our home? is it a virtue to find refuge and never come out?

i have more questions than answers, and admire these folks for also having some of both, even if they are a bit different than mine.


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