Out on the freeway as the dust of night stretches her lonely palms across the Los Angeles horizon.
The windows in my VW wagon are wide open and my left hand, placed slightly ajar out the window, moves up and down in the racing wind along the highway as my right hand steers. As much as this urban expanse is at times a disruptive blight on a once pristine desert, my heart swells with love for this place I call home. It is a jumbled chaotic mix of heat and humanity: of palm trees, racing cars and soaring aspirations. I breath in the cooling night air, tasting the plumes of passing diesel engines and the song of sweaty broken hearts.
It makes no sense to love this place, no logic at all, but somehow, I do.
hope you are well my friends. xo
