One block off the main drag, on a street that dead-ends at the freeway, you wander past a weedy lot, shimmering sprays of broken glass, and a Victorian apartment building that’s sinking back into the earth. Most of the garden-level windows are boarded; it’s been empty for a while. You know trespassing is a bad idea. You could get arrested. You could fall through a rotted staircase or be stabbed by a squatter or break your skin on a dirty needle. But still, there’s no harm in getting a better look. Is there?