The gardens surrounding the slowly collapsing playset in the middle of the greenway between the two buildings nothing short of amazing. Groups of older latin ladies have set up chickenwire and trellises and are growing beans, squash and peppers. They can and do pickle these and use them as trade commodities in the two housing structures.

They watch the garden like fierce tiny spanish banshees and nobody, not even the gangers mess with them. The Friday Nighters keep an eye on it as well and the ladies are appreciative, pickled peppers are a common snack for the bretheren. They serve weeding duty now and then and (x) occasionally takes his electric out into the boonies and comes back with some fresh compost and some chickens. Everyone loves the eggs. Nobody asks about (x)’s connections.

There have been brief wars in the gardens. The gangers fighting the private Stonewall security forces. The bodies get drug away, the ladies mutter and glare and rebuild. Since the advent of the Friday Nighters gangers have died down. Probably because a few of the Friday Nighters returned from post Iran a little twitchy and willing to crack skulls.

The gardens now grow fiercly green. Why are more and more apartments becoming empty?