NATHANAEL JOHNSON: This story starts on one of those rare San Francisco Sunday mornings when the sun breaks through the clouds and people are actually tempted to open their windows. I hadn't worked up the courage to actually open mine until I heard something strange coming from outside.

At first I thought it was just the corner store but they don't usually start blasting music until the afternoon. It didn't have the bass of a car studio, so I stuck my head out the window and listened someone was singing.

You have to understand. People don't hang out on my street unless they're ducking into a doorway to smoke something. I live in this little windswept alley where the houses make a solid wall right up from the road. The sidewalks are too narrow for trees so you don't bump into your neighbor watering the garden. I don't know the names of most my neighbors. I don't even know what language...
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