It was a tumbledown one-story house split into two halves, made into a duplex, two rooms to each half, joined by a shared bath. I had needed to escape quickly from the lunacy of the preceding place, with its daily threats on my life, and friends at this place took me in, glad to say.
One thing I learned, mostly in retrospect, from my time on Elm St., was that the seedy quality of the building didn't necessarily mean one was leading a seedy life. On the contrary, it was stimulating, even exciting and rewarding.
I think it was here that the foundation stones of adult socialization were firmly laid. The people I was living with were friends, of course, but they were neither family nor lovers, that is, they didn't involve those special relationships. Rather, we co-operated in the matter of shelter and food, we knew people in common and shared lives with one another. I wasn't there long, but I was rather happy there. The story is elsewhere.