Sunday was a beautiful day before the rains came into the Los Angeles Basin. I showered early. I didn't shave. I grab a once worn shirt, bright green, from Target and a color I would never have bought 2 years ago.
I walked down Los Feliz Blvd 1.1 miles. Westside Rental signs on every other quasi-french chateau box of apartments. Across the street, under the power lines stood headless pines, unadorned, not unlike fully erected fake xmas trees. I haven't crossed to that side ever. no not yet, not ever. On my side the air was beautiful. The sky was beautiful. The sun warmed the red hairs under my hat, and yes, even she was beautiful. She will always be beautiful to me.
I noticed this all.
My turn around point was the Mulholland Fountain, where I sat and watched a well dressed family move from bench to bench, to fountain edge, to another bench for each new picture.
I took a photo or two. White flowers drifted around the fountain, blown off the edge brush and limbs crissed crossed applesauce. And though the wind shakes the flowers off, it was still beautiful.