It rained today. Just a little sprinkle off and on. I wore my Jane Norman knit hat and pulled on my brown heeled boots, ready for whatever the mercurial LA weather gods might throw at me.
I’m still learning to appreciate LA: the dysfunction of the transit system, the brokenness of Skid Row, the overindulgence of Beverly Hills, the shabby-yet-seductive facade of Hollywood, the ethnic strongholds. The hipster, the artist, the businessman, the dreamer, the disillusioned, the activist, the hard-working pragmatist — all together, yet strangely separate. The entire city completely insulated.
I’m still learning to appreciate the complexity of LA. Its shadows are always shifting in my mind’s eye, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t place my finger on it.
But more often then not, I still feel London pulling at me. I know that even if I go back, things won’t be the same, but I’m interested to see what parts of the city have evolved, and what has stayed the same.
Perhaps I’m just anxious to travel again. To discover new things and meet new people (and reconnect with old friends). I want to immerse myself in other cultures and learn new languages while I still can. I want to have fascinating experiences — something fresh to write about. But alas, Los Angeles has its hold on me for the time being.