Metamorphosis in Los Angeles

The magnificent breeze brought by the wind when the roaring heat passes, or the way my whole body galvanizes at the start of another golden morning. Even if I’m just a bird passing through a chasm of time and space, I treasure the opening for another flight through it all. I love the land of daydreams and jamming; together we’re more of each other, bound for glowing warm hues, each filled with a light of our own to make even more colors as one.

And how could I ever forget, a place where I can lose myself only to recover more of myself later. Each part I leave at every intersection is not just the same when I recover it, it’s more; it’s born again, wrapped up in the old days as much as it’s open towards new days. I can be a million people in such a rhythm, any one of the strangers I pass.

I am the helicopter pilot churning through the sky, searching frantically to ground myself. And I am the motorcyclist, racing out of the general road to make my own way.

I am the writer, who celebrates at the sight of another vision brought to life on the screen. And I am the student, whose backpack is a time capsule destined to save the world, or at least to give it more time.

I am the ice cream man, playing my song no matter how heavy the silence weighs on me. And I am the store owner, opening my doors for yet another miracle to waltz in.

All of it is only the traffic of myself, slugging forward to finish what’s started no matter how long it takes, and how could I ever forget such character?

We are The People of Los Angeles, from every part and parcel of the world. We dream and daydream and live our dreams together, indefinitely.



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Born and raised in the Los. Los Cuentos. J.T.

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