First, there's the woman (or man?) who walks a cat on a leash. Then, there's the family across the street, an older couple and a daughter who's somewhere between 12 and 32, who all three of them look straight out of 1940s Britain. And of course, there's the construction man, the boss I think, always in a fur hat, always in front of a tiny television on the first floor of the building whose renovation he's overseeing. He basically never budges from his seat, morning till night, except just enough to make it clear he is a worker and not a resident at this location. And finally, there's an establishment that seems to do one thing and one thing only: provide women with red dreadlocks. Which is a good look for some women, particularly one who'd had hers done up into a sort of model-hipster fauxhauk. That she herself was of the model-hipster persuasion meant, of course, that she might have just looked good despite the red-dreadlocked fauxhauk. But in any case, sometimes I'm tempted to go that route, but I think I'd be better off with a cat on a leash or, better yet, a television.