My Childhood Homes — Part 2: The Hood

<p>Space was something that I and my family always craved. I love my family and I enjoy their presence, but now I always avoid sleeping in the same bed with my father during packed family gatherings.</p> <p>In fact, sharing the bed with someone in a non-romantic way is something that I don&rsquo;t enjoy very much. But it didn&rsquo;t used to be like that. Back in my childhood, there was no other way around it.</p> <p>And even if we didn&rsquo;t share the bed, as I later on had my own extensible armchair, we shared a single small room all the time. There was no other way since one room was all we had.</p> <p>I was born in one of the most notorious neighborhoods in my city, if not the whole country. The building we lived in was a gray, reinforced concrete, Soviet-style building. You know, the type that could easily be turned into an anti-atomic bunker if you sealed the windows and doors with some bricks and cement.</p> <p>The whole neighborhood was populated by a sea of gray buildings. Maybe I&rsquo;m nostalgic and subjective since it was my own crib, but not everything was as ugly as it looked.</p> <p>Every time I came back from a few months of vacation in the countryside, there was a tinge of fresh paint over it, a few renovations here and there, and cheerful friends waiting for me.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/the-challenged/my-childhood-homes-part-2-the-hood-9b2ee7b73cad"><strong>Visit Now</strong></a></p>