Diary 01/11/18

Walking along a freeway frontage road today at noon.

Acres of migrant housing have been demolished and are now being replaced by townhouses.

The construction workers on the job, all Hispanic, sat in their cars or next to them, on the street by the current building site, taking their lunch.

I heard mariachi trumpet music. A fellow relaxed in his car, doors open, listening to a mariachi band and playing along at intervals with it. Perhaps rehearsing for a gig tonight.

A Mexican food store and taqueria on the corner, there for years, cannot long survive. All its customers have been displaced.