DAWN came to the Luxembourg Gardens reluctantly. And for good reason.
Even in the soft, gray light there could already be seen the Gardens' anatomy of rubble, ash-heaps, tin cans, all the useless and unwanted castoffs of a metropolis with their pungent and offensive odors. The very name Luxembourg Gardens was the product of its inhabitants' sardonic wit, for this was one of those hobo jungles tolerated by the police on the rim of most large cities.
The homes of these modern, mechanized nomads were located deep in the center of the Gardens. The word Sunkist was stenciled on many walls of the queer, squat structures, for they were built mostly of orange crates and the roofs were weird patterns of patched blankets.