Since Erol has moved to Somerville, I have found myself admiring people's stoops. Each stoop has a different story and their own, distinct personality. I enjoy passing by stoops and thinking about the people who live in the house, based solely on the state of their stoop. Sometimes when I pass by, a resident is on his or her stoop, reading the paper or tending to the flowers and I smile at them, silently praising myself for being pretty spot on.
Below is a picture of E, on his stoop. I like to call it, "Just a man and his stoop."
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| Note the plastic chair and unclaimed newspaper-- clearly guys live in this house! Love the context clues! |
And with that, I am done saying stoop today.
Stoop.
Now I'm done.
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