More and more cars are parked in more and more places in the neighborhood. Even on the dead end roads in the woods you see parked cars. You might breathe on the windshield of such a car, rub it with your sleeve, and look into it. Maybe, and this is how it mostly is, there’s only the blinking red diode from the car alarm, but people can also be seen sitting in there, an older married couple with a thermos and plastic cups, and then it’s important that you kindly greet them with an acknowledging nod. But if a man lies in the back seat, sleeping with his legs pulled up under him, sucking his thumb, it’s best to disappear: into the thicket, tiptoeing in your stocking feet and with your shoes in your hand.