Once a week a crane hoists the graffiti-laden green bubble into the air and releases its contents. A parade of shattering glass erupts.

Most nights the waiter from the pizzeria chucks a crate’s worth of bottles into the green bubble. The rapid fire of bottles smashing forms a 30-second marcato. The sound of cars and passersby returns.

He usually waits until I’m almost asleep to do it. Last night he came earlier.