The roads sway and intertwine like the sandy spindles of an unfinished wicker basket. All laden with gas guzzlers that greedily ingest and cough the not so hidden treasure of Texas — oil. A commodity worshipped just slightly less than God. Even residential houses must bow to the oil king, with three lane roads splitting even the quaintest of neighborhoods.

Old stands up to new.

A mish-mash of white washed Miami condos, New England red-brick town homes and Cali-inspired duplexes abut yawning, wrinkly, one-story clapboard homes. A new home then an old home. A McMansion then a shack — repeated until a block begins to look like chessboard.

The future vs the past.

As the months pass, a shiny new chess piece knocks out an old tired pawn. Builders have bought existing homes only to destroy them, and rebuild houses that resemble the luxurious architecture of places far from this southern city. It hasn’t taken long for entire blocks to be gentrified in this way.


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image by: Alex Rocha

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