The buildings are crooked. The ground isn’t flat. The water is deep. The grass is overgrown, and still this is our home. We find warmth and love here even though it looks like there is none. The smell of curry seeps through the cracks and fills the air. We can smell Mama’s cooking from way down there. Our windows are broken, foundations are crumbly, some would say it isn’t fair. Still there is peace in spite of the wear and tear. Our little shanty town where hearts and faith make a wonderful pair.