My life has always been very far removed from Los Angeles. It was never a place I imagined myself going, let alone living. All of my visions of LA floated like a disconnected dream - a pleasant one but not something to be missed when it was over. Words, phrases and broken thoughts passed through my mind on the advice of friends who came and saw god or returned home with the bitter taste of a harsh world on the tips of their tongues. I apologized and gloated in equally taken breaths.
My first impressions of life in LA were of starts and endings - sunburned and hopeful faces among those for whom Hollywood is just a word that means home. Blue skies obscured by pollution that blocks my view of the mountains yet powers the engine behind the world 'go'. LA is a microcosm of selves. New selves and old selves. Chinese men learn to dance while sad mothers struggle to see a life beyond the street corner and children collect bottles in the park. LA is everything to everyone creating an uncomfortable blank line behind the question of 'is the world what you make it?'.