When I lived in Brooklyn in the 1990s, I never really knew what to expect.

A place where I was never really in control of what was happening to me, where I could go to the bathroom or go to work or play with my kids, where the sidewalks were all painted black.

But in 2016, when the state began to build a $1.9 billion wall that would surround the city’s most vulnerable neighborhoods, I was excited.

For the first time, I realized that I could walk around the neighborhood without fear.

That this wall would protect me from violence.

That it would make life better for my kids.

That I could make friends, spend time with friends, have a family and be part of something bigger than myself.

I couldn’t have predicted how the wall would turn out.

Since then, the barrier around Brooklyn has grown from an unmitigated nightmare to a symbol of its continued viability as a major American city.

And in 2017, as the wall’s construction continues, I have come to understand just how important it is for the city to keep this barrier in place.

As I learned in the past two years, the wall has been built for more than its intended purpose.

It’s built for the sake of the people it’s supposed to protect.

For a city that is increasingly desperate to rebuild its economy, and for a city trying to heal the wounds of the citys recent history, this wall is a testament to the city of Brooklyn’s stubborn determination to maintain its dominance.

The wall’s origins were never clear.

Some claim it was built to keep out immigrants and Muslims, but others say it was constructed by the British as a way to control the Indian Ocean.

Some say it came from a Spanish outpost that was captured by the French during the American Revolutionary War.

In any case, its existence is undeniable, and its purpose is clear.

Brooklyn has long been a major transportation hub for people from all over the world, but it’s the city that was most exposed to the effects of climate change, its economic downturn, and the devastation of Hurricane Sandy.

As the wall began to open, the city began to experience a sea change in the way it viewed itself.

For decades, the only way to escape the shadow of the wall was by building a new home.

And the only place to do so was in Brooklyn, a city whose residents have been told for generations that they have a choice between a life of poverty and a life in a “safe city.”

When I first moved to Brooklyn, I spent most of my time at a neighborhood bar called The Bitter End.

There, I worked on my first novel.

In the mid-’90s, the bar’s owner told me he was going to give me a chance to write my first book.

“It’ll be a hard sell,” I told him.

“I know.

It’ll take a lot of courage, but I want to write it.”

My plan was to tell the story of a single mother named Rosie.

Rosie, as she was then called, had no idea she was going through a major transition.

In fact, she had no clue what she was about to embark on.

She’d lived in a trailer park in South Florida for her entire life, and as a child, she’d spent her time walking and playing in the park.

In 1992, Rosie moved back to the trailer park and started writing a novel, called The Night Before Christmas.

After five years, she decided to go back to Florida to live with her parents, and they decided to move to a small house in the middle of nowhere.

In 1996, Rosi and her boyfriend, Michael, decided to start a new life in Florida, but the plan was scrapped when they heard that Hurricane Katrina was on its way.

The day after the hurricane struck, they decided they would live in their trailer in Florida for the next four years, but they would never return to South Florida.

The only thing they knew was that the people who lived there were very different from the people they had left behind.

I spent my first year in Florida with the intention of writing my novel.

But I couldn`t.

I thought that I was finally going to be able to move on with my life and start writing something new.

But instead of just writing about my experiences in Florida and New Orleans, I decided to write about the people that lived there.

My plan for my novel, which would focus on the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, was to have the people of South Florida experience what it was like for those who had been displaced during the storm.

Rosi, who is now 47 years old, had written a short story that she thought would resonate with the new people living in Florida.

So I got her to write a story about an elderly woman named Rosi Williams, whose husband died during the Katrina disaster.

It would be the first of two novels she was writing that would focus largely on the people living on the island.

As soon as I