I love my neighborhood. And I'm out walking around in it everyday--this is what having a young pit bull and a proclivity for exploring via foot gets you.
I always have my phone and tend to snap pics along the way (hello, Instagram). There is a particular house that has always intrigued me. On a street of beautiful, rather fancy homes just up the hill from the reservoir, it has a weeded out yard, peeling paint job, a funny toy sitting on its stucco fence, and an unoccupied vibe.
And then there are these meticulous crafted, beautifully hand-painted house numbers. The colors, shadow, and type are perfection.
Although L.A. is a big city, this is a small neighborhood–chances are I know someone who knows someone who lives here or has a story about the house. (And if not, there is always Google.) Maybe I'll investigate. But in the meantime, I've been enjoying my own private, secret stories about what is going on here and behind that wonderfully painted "V" by the door.