The dirty pueblo of Los Angeles
Men are seen walking down the paved streets with water jugs to the local wells. They are advertised by signs in Spanish: Aqui Agua .25Â¢ gal. Los Angeles has no water of its own. It comes in on trucks and trains. Rail cars from Vancouver trundle down the lines with clear spring water bottled at the source sloshing around inside stainless steel tanks. Water always moves.
There are people who settle down, and there are people who come and go. Sometimes they end up in places they don’t belong. They try to settle anew. What do they want to find? There are lonely houses across America that take them in and treat them badly. There is a system that claims to comfort them, but it is like drinking dirty water when you’re dying of thirst. The truck drivers pull into the big parking lot and kill the diesel motor, climb down to the ground with buzzing in their poorly circulating legs and hobble into the lobby. At this point, any number of things can go wrong.