There’s this brief moment, a span of about fifteen minutes or so on one of those rare days in Los Angeles when the temperature rises into the eighties, the warm winds move just so and the light casts this golden blanket across the horizon. You have to be outside the city to really appreciate it, to really feel the reminder that this place is, after all, a desert. This moment, its this short window of time when everything just feels perfect and as you chase the final moments of sunlight before they disappear behind the hills, you realize you are home.
This city may not be the most romantic or most breathtaking. It may not have centuries of history in it’s roots or landmarks worthy of an entire 36 frames. Hell, a street sans traffic is a thing of beauty here. But it’s those special moments that make me grateful to be here, to be of here.