The police said to do what we can to minimize our monetary losses and 'Get the fuck out.' They didn't even know that there was a residential building on this corner.

It doesn't make sense, but it makes perfect sense. This neighborhood is so diverse and youthful, but it changes by the hour. We're surrounded by cafes, restaurants and bars, all the ones that we wished for in Lefferts. Looming over us are the projects. They seemed ignorable at first, and for all I know they might be. Last week might have been a fluke. The police may be trying to spook us with that 'get out' stuff.

We sat down and talked about it tonight. I think we're leaving. I would stay if no one else wanted to go, but Patrick has seen/heard/felt enough, and he's going to leave no matter what. Sam takes the police's word, and feels like if they're saying we should get out, we should get out. I just don't understand what makes the other people in this building stay, the five girls that live above us. My friend from college lives a block away and she's never had a problem.

Tonight we poked around outside and found a bullet hole from Saturday night. A few feet to the right and it would have gone through Patrick's window. It couldn't have hit him from where they fired, but the angles aren't impossible.

And it was for no goddamn reason. Just a lot of people hanging out on the corner, though it'd be cool to shoot.

Anyone who's ever asked me for advice on moving to Brooklyn, I tell them 'Everything changes from block to block.' I don't know that I ever really understood what I was saying, or if I'd ever witnessed what that was like until now.

Where the fuck did we move to?