Lower-Middle Class Memories

I used to play in this yard when I was little. My grandmother still lives here in a tiny efficiency, and not much has changed about it (with the exception of more peeling paint). That storage container has always been an ugly, rusty shade of pink. We used to hang off of that clothes line like acrobats on monkey bars (which explains why it's not straight). All the tools and empty paint cans in the overhang are similar to the ones we used to steal and toy around with when the landlord wasn't looking (it's a miracle that none of us contracted a tetanus infection).

To any random person, this picture means nothing. To my siblings, cousins, and me, it is an image of a faraway place from a simpler time. It's my Never-Neverland.