I was born in a neighborhood downtown called Dog Hill in a slightly dilapidated Victorian. At the foot of that hill there is a little valley tucked in next to the old railroad line that goes across the river to the zinc plant. A few years ago some family friends built a village there, 8 little cottages for homeless women and children. They have a little garden, a greenhouse, pastures, and a stream. She works there now. Sometimes I drop in after court to pick her up for lunch. Life is good in our little village and I care less and less about all the trouble swirling around outside. Our stake in life is to protect this village. This is the center of my world. This is home.