In this VOICE exercise, Lia experimented with writing it in dialect and with no punctuation. I love the result. People who come through this city don like it much. Mostly they drive through here to get to someplace else. Our buildings like our people. Same on the outside. Chipped paint broken shingles cracked windows and the rooftops all caved in but see this only the outsides of ‘em. Inside we stop being rickety ole’ paint chipped beings and start being homes. Different on the inside. Guess that’s how it always is aint it?
People who pass through callin us poor. Never know quite what they mean. Know the basic definition of the word but then again I never left this city so I aint really got much to compare poor to. Never really seen no opposite of poor. Everyone round here lives just like me and my family do.
I keep my head high like my papa taught me. Even if the air thick with heat and smoke. Keep it high. The small children skip past. Their bare feet slappin against the cracked stone their shrills of laughter almost touching the sky but falling just before they make it. The little girls flower print dress dash past me so quick all the flowers blur into one big pool’ a bright colors swirlin, dancin with each other. Two boys try to catch her All giggles they are. The boys dirty white collared shirts hang off their bodies swishin in the wind as the rush past.
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