Several hundred seagulls guarded the gates of what appeared to be a trash sorting facility. No signs named the place, no address could be seen to guide a visitor. The gulls rose and fell like waves of arrows atop every rooftop, flapping madly when large trucks rolled up to the central warehouse laden with treasure.
To the credit of the city, none of the characteristic smells of rot and chemicals wafted out. Although that may be indicative of some terrible and unsustainable efforts to keep the operation inoffensive.
A long, stumbling, and stupid endeavor to break fewer laws resolved itself today, owing much to the gracious professionalism of one woman trumping the trollishness of another. The moment was memorialized by seven characters, blue hammered into white: WZW 1452.