Down a dimly lit side street filled with potholes and broken limbs. The smell of laundry and grease filled the air. When you would ride your bicycle down the road, the dogs would bark at you and snap at your tires. The old men would sit in front of the garage and laugh at you in hopes that you might hit a *** hole and take a tumble off of your bicycle. If you did the dogs would be upon you, they would mostly lick you and tear at your clothes. Then they would leave their mark on your bent and broken bicycle as they went off to find another way to amuse themselves. In the heat of the day they would lounge under old rusted out cars and in the evening chase you for fun. At night they would run down some back alley and chase a stray cat before rifling through the garbage of some apartment building. Between two main boulevards 8th street went. A side ways path that seemed to lead through nowhere and anywhere. Always filled with the strays of life, dogs and people alike.