I was walking through the Kensington neighborhood in North Philadelphia when I noticed a shrine made from scraps of lumber and old furniture. Empty liquor bottles were arranged inside. A menagerie of stuffed animals, their fur matted by rain and bleached by the Sun, covered the top. “RIP Bug” had been crudely written with black Sharpie across a koala’s chest.
As if in answer to my question – who is “Bug”? – I found a plaster heart nearby, obscured by the weeds. It was set in concrete along with spent votive candles. Inside the heart was a baby’s footprint, the words “In Memory of Bough,” and a photograph of a young man with a dimpled smile wearing a cap and sports jersey.
