My eyes were still closed and i can't see through walls, but i could clearly picture him clutching at his face in despair, his own quick summer life playing out before him.
His mother calmly explained to him that it is still July. The 31st.
And simultaneously, Neighbor Boy and i let out an exhale, "Oh...thank god."
i search for cheap train tickets across the country, i clamor to find a place to live/sleep/crash on the other side, i begin to savour the traffic heading North on La Brea (which forces me to come to grips with my crippling romanticising of the city of angels) and now i feel the pull. Half Biggie, half Pac, half fashion week, half fuck it, just getting the hell out to get the hell in.
to get to this:
feels like this: