Riding through Crackton this morning, there was no one on the street. It was suspicious, so suspicious, even the Theives Market was gone. The corner of Pigeon Parked looked like an abandoned movie set. Benches were not huddles of homeless, forts of shopping carts and tattered blankets, shouting about drugs, threats, or Jesus. I could see police farther down one street, bunched at the mouth of an alley, clapping their dark gloved hands together against the chill, but no other evidence of anything that could have happened. My bus went by too fast. Yesterday our regular junk strip was our regular junk strip, all howling, dirty, and dangerous for tourists. Where did everyone go?