The first time I saw the alley in Echo Park swallow an entire afternoon, I thought it was a movie. The sun had started its slow slide behind the Griffith hills, and a low rumble threaded through the neighborhood—dumpster chains clinking like castanets. Across from a weathered Craftsman, a bright green roll-off sat like an open maw, and a small army of neighbors, contractors, and one determined grandmother were turning a cluttered lot of memories into neat, stacked piles.
Setup: The Neighborhood, the Project, and the People
We were there because of a kitchen renovation gone gloriously and messily wrong. Intractable tile, a leaking sink that had been ignored for years, and a pantry filled with boxes labeled
