This is a passage from A Bottle In The Gaza Sea by Valerie Zenatti that I changed around to make it apply to the Greasers. Please read and review!
-Tabitha
The country is the only place where you can forget we're hemmed into this paltry end of the city called the East Side. No one who hasn't seen can imagine the place. The easiest way to describe it is to list everything that isn't there, then I imagine you might have some idea of it: no rivers, no forests, no mountains, no valleys, no historical monuments, no spanking new stores, no pretty streets with cafes and expensive shops, no big parks where families can go for picnics, no East Side is just concrete, a few trees, a couple of bars, and grey houses, dozens of grey houses huddled together, huddled so tight they nearly suffocate...and you do suffocate pretty easily here. So easy it scares me something fierce. Basically, it's Tulsa's garbage dump. And who else lives here? Dozens of Greasers dreaming of some place else, dozens of Greasers dreaming of a better life. (When they're not dreaming of killing a Soc or ,better still, ten because hate and a thirst for revenge come cheap and are everywhere. In fact, they're the only commodities we have in plentiful supply, along with despair, that is.)