Every time I pass that wild cloverleaf where the 110 and 10 meet, I stare at those apartments dead in the middle and think could that actually be the worst place to live in LA? I mean, boxed in by two of the busiest freeways, wrapped in a daily fog of brake dust and honks. Apparently, they’re rent-controlled and still going for $1,400/month for a studio. Wild.
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