Sitting just outside the federal building downtown, where masses of recent immigrants huddle to breathe free, is a much-loved Los Angeles landmark. Borne of a cracked sidewalk, lovingly poured in asphalt and welcoming us with open arms is The Man in the Concrete.

LJ: Good morning, Man in the Concrete. How are you doing?

MitC:

LJ: Great to hear. Does it hurt when large men step on your face?

MitC:

LJ: Huh. I wouldn’t have thought that. And birds?

MitC:

LJ: Oh God.

MitC:

LJ: Well, that’s all the time we have. Thanks for stopping by. No, please, don’t get up.