I had a long day of reading, writing, and teaching, but I had to have the energy to ride my bike just down the hill to Mt. Vernon–I mean what am I going to do, drive and park there? Please. It was a pleasure, though, because it mean meeting V. for dinner at that Indian place that smells like butter. We ate too much, swapped teaching strategies (what do you do when they start crying?), and then it was time to lug my exhausted self back up the hill to home. I stopped at Calvert and 25th to take a picture of this cobbled-together set of gates keeping people out of the “yard” in front of some houses. Today’s classes were a lot about keeping people out–of neighborhoods, out of my back yard, out of schools and into prisons, and all sorts of other ways we cordon off space to try to make it our own or try to find a place in spite of all the bars and fences. Somehow this collection of makeshift fences is so haphazard it seemed like art to me, less a boundary between public and private. After today’s classes, I needed a little art, so I’m glad I could see that there.
For quite a while, near these gates, a car sat behind a gate of it’s own, decaying. I must admit that I have not seen it in a few years but I did move out of the neighborhood nearly 3 years ago.