Author: Mason Balouchian
I live in an apartment complex—on the first floor. There is a pond behind the building. Our bedroom window is facing this pond. A few years ago, when I moved into this apartment, it was sparkling with fresh water. Since then, it has gradually been dying out. Now, it is a swamp with dead water hosting frogs and snakes. I, no longer go near it.
On the opposite side of the building, there is the parking lot. The asphalt is covered with motor oil here and there. Like the lake, it is not fun to walk around. In the evening, lots of cars arrive. The drivers park their cars and go into their apartments in haste. They stay there until the next morning when they rush to work again. For the last two years, I have talked to my neighbors only a few
times—accidental meetings on our way to school, shopping, or work.