They would hold house meetings to process dispute and idea. In time they would build, on the Pink House lot’s southern edge, tiny insulated homes for people who were homeless in the city. They would share money, they would protect any family member who fell upon hard times, they would never have a landlord again, they would in this manner grow old together. Part of me was impressed. Most of me sneered. How would they get the money for this? What if someone in this idyllic-ass commune wanted or needed out, desired to leave? The 1960s called, and they wanted their ideas back. I turned the page.
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