On Mount Baldy we walk a Spaniel with googly eyes and a fat mutt. Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark. Tall cactus watch over us, wondering if the Bougenvelia will ever loose its pink pink flowers.
Christmas sugar lights. A vast sky, palm trees, and horizons on every side. I’m so used to a skyline and the presence of others, the ability to at any given moment peek into a window across the street, to a higher floor and see someone cooking, dressing, kissing. Here, you look out the window and you just see black and a faraway glow of a sprawling city. Here, you drive by the UFC training gym and the blinking red eyes of electric towers, Don Quixote, half a moon, Coyote packs. (Antonio Sicurezza)
And for breakfast I eat the bread my dad makes, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. I eat a persimmon too. Fuyu.