Tucked under the rear windshield wiper of a car parked in front of Calvary Church in Pasadena's South End, a sign pointed to a cardboard box offering "free toys and clothing for fire victims." In the small Presbyterian building transformed into a donation center, blankets, games and kitchen utensils were sorted, labeled and set up on makeshift tables, before leaving for storage. Just ahead, on Fremont Avenue, was the same scene of drivers descending with arms full of bags to drop them off at the church, just a few blocks from the 57 square kilometers devastated by the Eaton Fire. It was just one of the wildfires that have been ravaging Los Angeles since Tuesday, January 7.

The January sun reappeared in the City of Angels on Sunday, January 12, when the air, now slightly less ash-filled with less of the thick smoke that had hung in the air since the start of the fires, was clear enough for people to lay the filtering masks down. The "golden hour," as Angelenos call it, that moment when the sun turns the sky red before disappearing over the ocean, may have tinted the roof of the little church with a serene light, but the magic of the moment was lost. It no longer affects the traumatized town.

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