Photos by Rebecca Cooney
“It’s a concepto among Latin peoples,” Tito tells me. He is trying to explain the mutterings between the guys who huddle together nightly a few doors down. Our little block once was quiet at night. Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, they appeared with their boasts, guffaws, groans, and rattling beer bottles. It doesn’t help that our bedroom window overlooks the street. The peace of my night is ruined, and I fear it will never return. Their raucous chatter has become my nightly vexation. By most bedtimes I am pacing, counting the minutes until eleven when I feel at liberty to slip on a shift and go down and ask them to take their banter elsewhere.
“Relájate, mujer.” Relax, woman. More > >