Dear Pilsen

by Brian Cruz

You smell like a home cooked Mexican meal on a typical Sunday morning. I remember growing up on the smooth, yet cracked street of “Carpenter.” When my pool was only a bucket outside my house. With you I have learned both the good and the bad, how to see the wrong and the right of things. Because of you, I learned to stand up to the big bully down the street at Durant (sp?) Park. Because of you I am a growing artist and very passionate.

Although you are crawling with dangers like Ambros and Kings, U managed to stay within the warm and caring side of your contradictory heart. You are perfection all days of the week, down to every little bad and good detail. As a child your sounds were also contradictory, hearing and seeing shootouts and bedyes (?) hit the blood covered street corner, you took so many loved ones from me. However you gave me a permanent gift. One to ride them all out, the very soul {sole} reason as to who I am today. Your huge Hispanic heart pulsed drumbeats to mine. The gift of house music was your only gift to me. The sight of my community coming together to a sounds {to sounds} that we could all share under one heritage. The art all over the restaurant walls and the graffiti reinforcing love and the graffiti reinforcing love and peace. Because of this gift I am the person I am today, a house junkie, purist, and house head. However, I am also aware of where I am from and who my people are. Pilsen, you have both tortured me and raised me. But you will always be mi tierra.

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