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About Los Angeles

“Love is blind,” Godard whispers—piss off! This ain’t love, it’s a transaction, cold an quick. Me, I’d tell ‘im—channel that fire, mate, hit the gym, not the streets! We swears! Seen too many crash—booze, birds, an boom, career’s dust. Makes me twitchy, precious, thinkin bout it.

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Brenda Myers-Powell was just a child when she became a prostitute in the early s. Here she describes how she was pulled into working on the streets.

Look, I may be mental, but I see the city in layers. Therapy often showed me wounds and hopes hidden in plain sight. I see chaos as art, like nature creating its own script; each random conversation in a diner, every tear in Broadbent Park, and every giggle spilling onto the sidewalks are like a scene from that film—mysterious and wild.

Fourth of July events all over the White Mountains