For a year I have walked up and down 125th street commuting to and from the place I call home, but today it became quite a different walk. Nine more days are all that I have left to walk this path. Contrary to what people might think I do not feel like an outsider as I traverse Harlem’s busy streets, but I do feel my lack of roots. Time educes the growth of roots that we all naturally form as we inhibit an environment, and this is something that I have not given enough of. I am but a visitor-perhaps an intruder to some- who has taken up refuge in a place which I have no cultural or historic ties to. What factor does my existence in this place create? I feel as though I am just an anonymous being that slips in and out but I know that I am representative of more, of something that is much larger than me. Yes I have been changed by this place, but how much have I induced change upon it?