Welcome to Hawker

Ah, Hampden. You are beautiful. You are nauseating. You are my home. I love you.

You are fickle, oh Hampden, and that is what enchants me so.

Some mornings, I may be treated to a chat with my neighbors as I take a morning stroll, and some mornings, I may be tempted to pluck out my eyes after seeing a man use the alley next to the Avenue 7-11 as his own personal lavatory.

Some afternoons, the drug car may leave its customers stranded for hours in front of the library, and sometimes I may see the mayor enter and exit that pillared house of knowledge.

Some evenings, I may walk to see a play by William Shakespeare, and some evenings, I call 911 after seeing a catfight.

You hold such treasures, oh Hampden, such unexpected horrors and delights.

Here is where I celebrate you.