Another attempt to love Los Angeles
on livejournal.
I haven't yet found a word to mean "utter, profound yearning". Play "I Woke Up One Morning in May" and there you have it. After eighty years you can still hear the weight It bears on the space around him. His voice is going to destroy the tape, I keep thinking. The humble words of a blind man. infantile, naked fingers.
That yearning for another may as well be the same voice that implores 'why' at life.
All useless schmaltz aside- I love LA, but it's probably never about LA.
I haven't yet found a word to mean "utter, profound yearning". Play "I Woke Up One Morning in May" and there you have it. After eighty years you can still hear the weight It bears on the space around him. His voice is going to destroy the tape, I keep thinking. The humble words of a blind man. infantile, naked fingers.
That yearning for another may as well be the same voice that implores 'why' at life.
All useless schmaltz aside- I love LA, but it's probably never about LA.