Many of the gates guarding the houses are remote controlled and painted black. Often they'll slyly open as I walk and a car will emerge and a mother might throw an impatient wave urging me to cross. But I wave her back and wait while she slides her family anonymously onto the street. The kids in the back stare nonchalantly through the window as if I were perhaps a tree in their way. Just a little inconvenience to start their day.
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