Those are your boxes of cassettes piled in the gutter with leaves and rubbish. They have your colorful plastic stick-on labels. You have to be quick, on your bicycle: it'll require more than one trip to retrieve them all. Bundling them under your right arm you take as many as you can: one, two, three trips, rapidly on the sidewalk, back and forth past the growing party of neighbors with barbecue and beers on a long porch similar to yours. "Hey can I crash your party?" you yell, when you realize there are many pretty girls there.