Christmas Eve inside my ground-floor bedroom on the compound. A cacophony of music wafts in through my windows from a variety of sources: M.'s cafe; the rice, fruit, and vegetable stall across the street; the security guard's station in front of the admin office; a tenants' party on the north side of the compound; and the cell phones of tenants sitting on the concrete platform between our side porches.

I sleep well to urban noise. I feel safe and secure when I hear signs of life around me.