A hot dog cart. A race car long past its prime. A tractor with its paint worn off. All parked on a quiet Fremont street in front of a house with a bright red door. It’s the kind of scene that would undoubtedly catch your eye if you were passing through. Just not at the scale you’d be expecting. The whole scene exists in miniature, perched atop a hip-height tree stump in the front yard of a life-size version of that house. The cars, attached now to a Hot Wheels track, were left by neighbors at one of Seattle’s many takes on the now-ubiquitous Little
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