Today, on our way back to our house, Minal points out to laundry laid out behind some bushes right off the freeway, as we enter Pierce Elevated, heading south.
“Those belong to the woman that lives under the bridge,” she tells me. “You know, the one that has the shopping cart…”
Before entering the freeway, I glance as the red and checked cloths hanging off a rudimentary clothesline. I would never have noticed on my own.
“They always hang clothes there,” Minal tells me.