08 october 08

cresting wilshire this evening, had to smile: looking east down that broad boulevard, the evening hung in the heavy angeleno air. the pitch and thrill of cars on the road, the street’s complaint. sure, you can see it through the car window, but who has the time? pause for a moment beside the green wooden bus stop tucked into the hedge beside the country club, catch the scent of eucalyptus. by the time i get home, not dark but nearly so, the brushed velvet of griffith park in the distance, the glimmer of the observatory on the hill.

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