Streets.

“It was hit and run,” said a fellow, standing outside a seedy apartment building.  “I heard a thump and a woman screamed.”  Tonight on a side street off of Northwest Highway in Dallas, Texas, an unidentified blue car ran over a homeless man, mangling his leg.   The fellow I was speaking with did not see it happen, but he saw the carnage afterwards.  I asked him if the victim is still alive.  “Yes,” he answered. “But I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”  He shook his head and added, “I can’t believe that someone would just run over a guy in the street and then take off.  People are stupid sometimes, and heartless.  Stupid and heartless.”   Turning to his wife and friends, he said something in a foreign language, a language that has soft rolling sounds, like Spanish or Italian, but was neither.  I asked what language is he speaking.  He said Romanian.  “We are gypsy.  Pure gypsy.” 

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