A delicate flower....

yesterday I went for a run along the beach. On the ramp to the carousel, some clown blew bubbles for kids to chase and pop.

It's amazing how if you run towards a cluster of bubbles rising and falling, your air pushes them in all directions, never popping. but if you stand still, watch, hear the ocean, smell the salt and shit from the bums under the pier, you can see them burst.

and they all do, eventually.

Hitting the ground, or the sky, popped by some child playing or some runner trying to find his way home.




On another day, I watch birds fly from a perch at the corner of Sunset and Hollywood. You know that one ---- that fucking annoying intersection with the interminable wait. The birds rest above, looking down and it must be migration time. Where do they leave and come from? Doesn't really matter, but I notice the huge flock flying as one going somewhere, just like me.