As I drove through the desolate streets of Lost Angeles, home of the long forgotten Kmart, I was basked in the inferno of the early morning sun, the radiating red glow of its flames providing a feeling of solace from the darkness of the night. Through the orange tinted glass of my Jeep, I could see the police 4×4 quickly accelerating onto the 91 freeway, only moments before I saw the ominous electronic billboard that sharply declared that the Eastbound lane of the 91 freeway had been blocked off due to an accident. I therefore took the exit off of Cherry St., my faithful dog at my side, and began to make my way North.
The streets here were familiar to me, I could feel the phantoms of Kmart and family restaurants looming in the air around me. But, much to my chagrin, those places I had grown to love in my youth had been replaced by barren land seemingly up for lease. The journey, however, was about to take an unexpected and more frantic turn. I was close by my homestead when suddenly the entire road was blocked off by a swat team action scene as if some kind of grisly event had taken place. I swerved around the happening and check my rearview mirror to find some suicidal malcontent slow walking against a red light, defiantly staring me down as I drove by with my faithful dog in tow. I drove off and back to my humble abode, a sense of urgency now racing through my veins.
Not long after all this, I find myself reflecting on Sunday morning in the city of Angels. Despite being surrounded in moments of chaos and uncertainty, I was still overcome with an immense feeling of solace, as if maybe, just maybe, this place was still safe. Though times have changed and things have gone, here I was, back in the ever changing Lost Angeles.
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