Cities are strange places, this one more than most. I’ve never before felt so denatured.
My last full week in California comes to a close on sunday. The project which took me here is nearly complete, though today my arm isn’t much use. I have the time to rest, but inactivity is my least favorite pass time.
Nothing has felt fully real since I dry docked Elias on the second. I’m far outside my normal spaces, both physical and psychological, and far far from my normal routines. Today is the first I’ve thought of thinking ahead by more than a day. It seems two and a half weeks is how long it takes me to get to know a place well enough not to be overwhelmed by it.
For all the declarations of what LA is, all the erroneous and inaccurate suppositions about its culture and geography, no one talks about the light. It hits differently, here. It’s sharper, it fades more slowly. It’s beautiful, but I haven’t fully slept for twenty days.
But, for nineteen of them, I avoided the majority of my arthritis. Having done so through nearly three weeks of almost exclusive hand tool use ain’t half bad.
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