Located in the northern part of Los Angeles, Hollywood, after more than half a century of development, has grown into a small town attracting the attention of the whole world. It is not only the world's top movie factory, but also represents the essence of the American film industry, and has developed into one of the most popular tourist attractions in the world.
In this world of movies, Hollywood Boulevard is like a winding long river flowing slowly, connecting Hollywood in its entirety. The whole street is always in a bustling atmosphere, and even when compared with Times Square — hailed as the crossroads of the world — it is not inferior in the slightest. The east–west road bears both the mark of modern prosperity and the traces of historical sedimentation, while the ever-present entertainment and fashion shows on both sides of the street form natural stages, offering glamorous showcases for everyone. The Hollywood Sign, Universal Studios, and numerous film shooting locations at the far end of the view condense the unique charm of this movie city, making one momentarily unsure whether they are in a film or in the real world.
Along the stretch of Hollywood Boulevard from Gower Street in the east to La Brea Avenue in the west lies the famous Hollywood Walk of Fame. More than two thousand star-shaped plaques are embedded in this sidewalk, each one representing an awardee's outstanding contribution to the entertainment industry. Although the nomination and confirmation process has been questioned endlessly, it has not diminished the prominence or authority of the Walk of Fame. Winning a place on this sidewalk is a tremendous honor for anyone.
Since the first star appeared on this boulevard in 1960, forty-two years have passed. Although there are now more than two thousand stars inscribed with names, this is still just a very small portion compared to the vast number of participants in the entertainment industry. Thus, for most people, the Walk of Fame serves only for commemoration, sightseeing, and remembrance. This also makes it one of the most beloved performance spots for street performers in Los Angeles.
From the moment the morning sun rises, one can see various street performers beginning their day's work on the Walk of Fame, especially in front of the bustling Hollywood & Highland Entertainment Complex, which is always a fiercely contested spot for performers.
As the sun tilts westward, the lively scene on the sidewalk not only fails to fade, but becomes even more animated. The fiery sunset casts a fierce boiling hue over the throngs of people shoulder to shoulder. At the base of a lamppost near La Brea Avenue, a raggedly dressed homeless man lies weakly on the ground, stretching out his right hand to try and stop passersby, hoping someone might spare some change. The crimson light drapes over his body, making the dirt and grime on him clearly visible, causing those who see it to frown unconsciously before hastily detouring away.
Homeless people are not uncommon in Los Angeles, most of them Black or Mexican, whether garbage-picking beggars, sloppily dressed thugs, or listless drug addicts… looking down any street, you can see plenty. However, the division of districts in Los Angeles is very clear, and the activity areas of the homeless are quite limited. They only appear in certain zones, and in the high-end financial districts or the upper-class residential areas, it is rare to see them. There are no explicit street boundaries, but much like Chinatown or Little Tokyo, the homeless always "know" their own territory and keep separate from affluent white communities — the April Rodney King riots were obviously an exception.
Yet these so-called activity areas of the homeless clearly do not include Hollywood Boulevard, so seeing a homeless person here is not common. Many passersby, upon seeing him, instinctively glance around for patrolling officers. To prevent incidents, police patrols here are frequent, especially now when the aftershocks of the Rodney King incident have not yet fully dissipated. But these passersby are to be disappointed — less than a hundred yards away, two police officers stand watching, yet they have no intention of driving the homeless man away.
Locals in Los Angeles would quickly realize this homeless man must have obtained a street performance permit from City Hall, so the police, having confirmed this, naturally would not evict him. In big cities like New York and Los Angeles, countless street performers gather, and in order to regulate them, not just anyone can pick up a guitar and start performing — it's much like setting up a stall. Those wishing for legal street performance status can apply to City Hall and thereby secure a spot for themselves on the street. Evidently, this homeless man was one of the permit holders.
For outsiders and tourists, however, these nuances are hard to understand. Few would associate a destitute homeless man with the glamorous image of a street performance. As a result, almost everyone passing by frowned and detoured, filled with doubts and confusion about the security of the Walk of Fame before continuing forward.
At this moment, a tall young man carrying a guitar strode over with steady steps. His head was bowed, as though lost in thought — such pedestrians are common on the streets of Los Angeles. While the most famous music schools in America are mostly concentrated in New York, and Broadway has become a symbol of that city, Los Angeles is nonetheless one of the world's most renowned theater hubs. From drama to symphony to art communities, its musical bloodline is no less vibrant than Hollywood's cinematic fame. Many West Coast music styles were born and developed here, and of course, the world's most prestigious and top-tier Grammy Awards originated in Los Angeles.
Thus, music flows through this city, and independent musicians of all kinds abound.
The young man seemed so absorbed that he did not notice the homeless man to his left. His left foot was hooked by the homeless man's outstretched left hand, and he stumbled forward, nearly bumping into a woman ahead. Realizing his mistake, he quickly steadied her, apologizing repeatedly. The woman had not been hurt at all, and with his apology, she immediately waved her hand, indicating it was fine.
But before they could say anything more, a wailing voice rang out beside them: "My hand! Jesus Christ, my hand!" The sharp cry sounded agitated, even twisted. "My hand must be broken! My hand!"
Looking back, they saw that the shouter was indeed the homeless man.
The homeless man's voice made over a dozen people on the sidewalk stop in their tracks. Some quickly walked away, unwilling to get involved, others stayed to watch the commotion, and still others began discussing what had just happened. In an instant, the scene drew quite a bit of attention from the surrounding area.
"Sir, ma'am, sorry, I'm really sorry." The young man's face was full of panic, his immature and awkward expression clearly showing his confusion. Because the homeless man's voice was rough and androgynous, the young man babbled apologies incoherently. He even crouched down, intending to check on the homeless man's condition.
But before the young man's hand could make contact, the homeless man screamed again.
"You're trying to break my hand, you damn bastard! Are you trying to kill me?" The shrill voice was like glass scraping against a chalkboard, extremely unpleasant to hear.
The nearby pedestrians immediately erupted in murmurs, because it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the young man hadn't done anything at all before the homeless man started screaming. This was clearly the homeless man seeing the young man's youth and trying to extort him—it couldn't be more obvious. However, none of the onlookers stepped in to help; someone instead called over the nearby patrol officers, but still no one warned the young man.
The young man seemed completely unaware of any of this. Flustered and fumbling, he looked at the homeless man in front of him.
"Ambulance—should we call an ambulance?" His youthful face was already completely at a loss. Those clear eyes looked so helpless and innocent that they stirred sympathy, and his bright brow was now dotted with a thin sheen of sweat, making one suspect he might burst into tears at any moment.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about something, I really didn't notice, I really didn't mean it." The young man stammered nervously. "Let—let me help you up, don't just lie there."
As he spoke, he reached out to grasp the homeless man's shoulder. But the moment his hand touched it, the homeless man suddenly leapt up from the ground, no longer looking weak at all.
"What! Molestation! Molestation! This man tried to molest me!"
What kind of turn was this? The crowd was stunned. Could this homeless man actually be a woman?
The homeless man sat up, bracing against the lamppost, clutching their own collar and glaring viciously at the young man. The fierce expression sent chills down one's spine.
"Don't you dare touch a single inch of my skin! If you don't give me an explanation today, don't think you're leaving!"
"Wha… what?" The young man was utterly terrified, his innocent gaze almost brimming with tears.
The homeless man bared their teeth viciously, stepping forward one step at a time, forcing the young man to retreat.
"You broke my hand and then tried to molest me. If you don't pay me compensation, I'll take you to court!"
"Money? What money? I don't have any money." The young man was now completely lost.
At this point, someone in the crowd finally couldn't stand it anymore and stepped up to speak for him.
"Hey, buddy—"
But before he could finish, the homeless man shot him a fierce glare and barked,
"Are you trying to gang up on a homeless person? Or are you planning to pay for him?"
The ferocious tone was nothing like a woman's—it was more reminiscent of a mastiff's aggressive bark. Although everyone believed the homeless man was trying to scam money, no one could be sure they weren't truly injured, so for the moment, the crowd was cowed into silence.
Fortunately, the patrol officers arrived!
..
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