72 degrees of diffusion

Some places are too diffuse to take a picture of, taking a picture would ruin the diffusion. I speak at the moment of Los Angeles, the city I was born in so many years ago and just had to leave, returning now as a visitor and seeing how diffuse it is, that diffusion is its beauty.

I drive east along Washington, which diffuses and becomes Venice Blvd, make a left on Crenshaw, a right on Wilshire, and find the little house on Lorraine Ave. where Lea Ann and I lived as caretakers when we first married. There's the little park and the house across the street from it where I played ping-pong with the rich Chinaman who owned the house; he beat me almost every time we played.

I park, get out of the car, sit on a rock in the sunshine. It feels like a perfect 72 degrees. A light breeze moves three white clouds around in the sky, rearranging their diffusions. Los Angeles seems to be on some sort of adventure of diffusion.

 Driving east on Washington Boulevard, Los Angeles, Ca. 10 a.m., March 23, 2017.

Driving east on Washington Boulevard, Los Angeles, Ca. 10 a.m., March 23, 2017.