I just went the library. This was kicking around my head while I walked:

The neighbourhood had changed. Forty years of changes in wealth and conflict were shown in the concrete. There were 'English' names that had been scratched into the drying footpath years ago, and they were there consistantly throughout the timeline that the pavement showed as migrants from other neighbourhoods and from other countries came and took those names for themselves to fit in or to help forget what they had left. But someone who had lived in or near the neighbourhood during the whole time could date a peice of the walkway to at least the decade it was laid by the writing upon it.

There was more but I choose here to end it.