Our street is an endless source of - well, if not Amusement, at least curiosity. Here's a large, shabby white van, filled with unappetising looking stuff like old pillows and sheets and bags of things, owned (or maybe not exactly owned any longer) by an unsavory, if slightly mysterious couple of guys who live (or used to live) next door: maybe brothers; maybe war vets of some kind; maybe ex-addicts; maybe serious depressives; maybe just sad people. In any case - some small bit of the LAPD, and a tow truck, turned up today, and dragged the van, sagging and whimpering, onto the ramp, and headed off with it. This was today's mystery, until, this evening, George and Myrna, the adults in the El Salvadorean family opposite, started to dismantle and maybe pack (into a different truck) a whole lot of their outdoor belongings. They are still at it, clangingly. Are they moving out? If so (and it seems possible - over the last month or so there have been various Visits from people who look like bailiffs or similar), what's going on? And so on. On the other hand, we are deeply grateful that Sunset Junction, the music festival that was scheduled to happen this weekend just a few blocks away has been cancelled because of unpaid bills - and for that matter, we're pretty happy that there isn't a large damp windy hurricane heading our way.
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