Sunday morning I ran 24th down the avenues to remind myself that living on the poor end of Terre Haute as I do is a very broad concept. Running north, the houses structurally and emotionally deteriorate. On an early Sunday morning, the streets are quiet and deserted. I smell odd things, like trash and dirt and marijuana, and see broken glass and graffiti around abandoned buildings, rusted trucks parked in the drive ways of trailers, clothing and shoes and toys scattered on the lawns. So many black and red signs on trees and doors and fences that read NO TRESPASSING or BEWARE OF DOG – is it that people here do not trust each other anymore? Do they trust anyone? Do they trust themselves?
Why do I feel safe here?
I felt like I could run there forever. I never wanted to go home.